Summary: After Hotch gets hurt out in the field, you and the other members of the BAU take turns taking care of Hotch at his home. Reader want to make sure she can help Hotch in whatever way she can.
CW: Hotch having an attitude bc of course he does, sex fantasy, needy!Hotch, oral m!receiving, fingering
a/n: Hotch is literally the master of flirting when he isn’t at work I cannot with him, this is more short and sweet than most my stories
This is the other Fanfic from the poll!
READ PART 2
title track 🎶🩹
~~~
Reid answered the door. Bright smile on his face greeting you, “Hey.”
“Hey,” you smiled back at him.
“Come on in,” Reid moved out of the doorway allowing you to pass by him. You waited in the entry way for Reid to close the door.
“How is he?”
“Uhm— good. Mad that we’re here,” he laughed awkwardly.
You cocked an eyebrow, silently. A few weeks ago, Hotch had gotten caught up in the line of fire. Getting struck in his thigh and stomach. Lucky to not have bled out on the field. The day was a harsh memory that you refused to let go. Making sure to never let anyone else make the same mistakes as him again. Never feeling weaker than seeing him in the hospital bed. The Team had all agreed to take care of Hotch while he was on home rest. Taking shifts throughout the weeks.
You followed behind Reid into the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Hotch gritted through his teeth. Only wearing some loose fitting sweat pants and a tight white t-shirt. A strong contrast from his usual suit and tie. Straining as he attempted to get off the couch by himself. Reid rushed over to him, lifting him by his shoulder. Hotch swatted at the Doctor, attempting to jerk away.
“We’re all taking turns helping you. Guess I’m on Hotch Duty for tonight,” you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a closed mouth smile.
Hotch’s brows furrowed tightly, vein on his neck popping. “I don’t need help. What I need is to get back to work,” Hotch pushed Reid away as he finally got to his feet. Reid threw his hands up in a defensive position still close behind your boss.
“Yeah, it really looks like it,” you rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest.
Hotch shot a chilling look your way, but you were unwavering. “I’m still your superior—“
“And right now I’m your caretaker. I’m sure Reid has been letting you boss him around, but I’m not going to let that happen. No offense, Spence,” you stated. Spencer waved his hand up to let you know he was not offended.
Hotch’s hand gripped the arm of the couch with a bruising strength. Barely able to hold himself up properly. A slight shake to his body. Angry that you, of all people, were talking to him this way. Fighting the way his heart swelled as soon as his eyes laid upon you in his living room today.
You and Hotch had grown close in the last few years. Growing into a mutual unspoken want for one another. Casually flirting when you were alone or not at work. Keeping each other company on extremely late nights at the office. Getting closer than you realistically should, given the field you worked in.
“Reid, you can go,” Hotch did not break eye contact with you.
“A-Are you sure—“
“We’ll be fine, Spence,” you smiled eyes locked in on Hotch’s.
Reid grabbed his bag and headed for the door, “If you guys need anything I’m only a text away.”
“Thank you,” you said still not breaking with Hotch. His deep brown eyes made your heart skip a beat. The wrinkles on his face as he attempted to intimidate made you blush. Not speaking until the door closed behind Reid.
“Are you gonna have an attitude with me all night?” You teased, cheeks beaming with heat. Hotch blew air out of his nose. Skin tightly pinched between his eyebrows. Refusing to speak to you. “Oh, come on. Your favorite boy is gone, you don’t have to keep up the mean-mug,” you walked over closing the space between you. Extending your arm out to him so that he could brace himself to walk.
His jaw clenched. Stubbornness being a strong suit of his. Hesitantly taking your offer of help. “Where are we heading?”
“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch grumbled.
Slowly, you assisted him to the bathroom tucked away next to his living room. Standing in the doorway as you allowed him to shimmy himself over to the toilet. Not even thinking of what you were doing, until Hotch gave you a strange look.
“Are you wanting to watch?”
Your face flooded. Stammering as you cupped your own cheek. Shaking your head with closed eyes. Smiling awkwardly, “Sorry—“
Hotch had to fight the smile that dared creep across his face. Enjoying how flustered you were. You reached in to pull the door shut. Leaning against the wall directly next to the bathroom. Hands gripping your hair in embarrassment as you replayed the moment over and over. Trying to cool the heat in your cheeks.
Straightening your posture when you heard the door click open. Greeting him with a soft smile and your arm extended. His brows were still pressed together. Lips in a thin line as he hooked his arm around yours. Leading him back into the living room so that he could get comfortable.
The night slipped away. Preparing dinner for your boss as he sat at the counter. Dying to get up. Hating to be taken care of. Denying the comfort he felt with you nestled in his home.
“Hotch, I can hear you bouncing your leg, cut it out,” you did not even look over your shoulder to give him eye contact. He scoffed, the sound of his leg subsiding.
“I know you hate all this. Really I do,” you softly spoke to him as you plated the food, “But all of us just want to see you get better. We want our leader back in his best shape. I want you to relax and let me take care of you.”
Hotch’s eyes watched every move you made. Stalking you like his prey as you brought the plate over to him. Expression unchanging, “How am I supposed to relax? There’s cases and I’ve been away so long already. I can’t stay cooped up here forever.”
“And you won’t. The sooner you take it easy, the sooner you can come back,” you flattened your hand against his shoulder. Hotch’s expression softened with your gesture. Swiftly directing his attention onto the food in front of him. Something about the interaction caused your cheeks to warm up. Unsure what that was about. Walking over to his fridge.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Just water,” Hotch took a bite of food.
“Aw, you don’t wanna crack open a bottle of wine and reveal our darkest secrets to each other?” You teased, looking over your shoulder at him. Seeing his brows pushed together. Lips in a strong, straight line.
“Okay— tough crowd,” you widened your eyes as you closed the fridge. Going to grab a cup out of the cabinet to fill it for him. Walking over and taking the seat beside him. Silently eating dinner together. Guess you did not have much to talk about. And he was clearly in no mood to chit-chat.
“You’re a good cook,” Hotch broke the silence with a compliment.
“You’re telling me Reid didn’t prepare you a four coarse, perfectly diet-balanced meal while he was here?” You teased. Finally, breaking away Hotch’s hard shell. A soft chuckle coming from him. “I’m sure he would’ve had a slideshow to explain it all too,” you grinned.
“He wouldn’t need the slideshow, he could explain it all to me himself,” Hotch joked as he pulled the food from his fork. Feeling comfortable for the first time together. Allowing both your walls down. Sharing in your laughter.
You both finished your dinner. Taking the plates and putting them in the sink. Allowing Hotch to walk on his own to put his away. Standing beside him the entire time. You interlocked arms with him to lead him into the living room. Grunting as he sat down, eyes closing as he rested his head against the back.
“Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll do whatever you need to relax,” you smiled, standing in front of him.
Something about that seeped into his imagination. Feeling his cock jump when an imagine of you kneeled between his legs popped into his mind. With everyone here, he had not had any alone time. Needing to let out some of the things pent up inside him. Your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock—
“No,” Hotch blurted out. Aggression returning to him. Catching you off guard and causing a bit of frustration to bubble up inside you. You scoffed and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes, “Don’t try anything while I’m in there.”
Once you disappeared around the corner, he relaxed again. Clicking mindlessly through the channels on the TV. Trying to distract himself. Looking down at his half-hard cock. Embarrassed that he was thinking of one of his subordinates in the way he was. Still he allowed himself to fantasize.
Imagining how beautiful you would look sat upon his lap. Straddling his waist as you sunk down onto him. Thinking about how you would sound moaning his name when the head would hit somewhere just right inside you. Dying to know how perfectly he would fill you up. He needed something— anything from you.
Allowing his hand to softly touch his aching member. Only making things worse for him. His face contorted as he squinted his eyes shut. Mouth hanging open slightly.
God, he was such a pervert.
Jumping when he heard the water stop in the sink. Footsteps enclosing on the room. In the time you had done the dishes, you had calmed down from Hotch’s outburst. Knowing and rationalizing that he was going through a lot and sometimes he would be more vulnerable than others. Greeting him with a bright smile. Grabbing your bag off the kitchen chair, “Do you mind if I go change?”
“Of course not,” Hotch breathed out.
“I’ll know if you strain while I’m gone,” you smirked.
Hotch grinned back at you. Watching you until you faded away into the bathroom, door clicking behind you. Thank God he had one of the best poker face’s around. Finally allowing himself to breathe.
His erection pressed against the soft fabric of his sweats. Driving him absolutely insane. He pondered if he would have time to rub it out before you got back from changing. Softly playing with himself as he thought. Groaning at the feeling of his fingers trailing his length. Trying to control his breathing as to not make any overtly sexual sounds.
Oh, God, how he needed it. His cock pulsed with pure desire. Something he did not think his hand alone could fill. He felt pathetic. Preparing to ask you what he was going to.
The door creaked open. You came back to see him still in the same spot as before. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw you. Wearing a loose fit t-shirt and some sporty shorts. Hair relaxed and quite a bit of skin showing.
“Hope you don’t mind, your house kinda runs hot,” you smiled, suddenly aware of his eyes on your body. Loving the attention he was giving. Blushing as his jaw hung open softly.
There were not many occasions where members of the BAU saw each other outside of work. Normally dressed in business attire, making sure to look extremely respectable and professional. Used to the button-ups and slacks. Not a shirt that perfectly hugged your chest and some shorts that were barely revealed under the length of your top.
As if he wasn’t hard enough already.
You sat on the other end of the couch beside him. Only a small pillow between your bodies. Legs crossing, causing your shorts to hike further up your thighs. Revealing the extra soft spots closer to your core.
“Anything good on?”
Hotch hesitated, “No.”
You widened your eyes at his short answer. Not sure what had gotten him so irritable in the last bit. Not wanting to push him. Choosing to stay quiet as you leaned against the arm of the couch. Watching some old sci-fi movie he had landed on. They were shooting out with some aliens. No telling what over, the movie was half way over by the time Hotch got to it.
The glow of the TV was all that illuminated the room. Flashes of colors dancing across your skin. Silently staring at the flat screen. Thinking about nonsense, just trying to feed your mind.
“Y/N,” Hotch began, hint of a break in his voice. You looked over at him. He had sweat beaming on his forehead. “You… you said earlier that you would help me in whatever way you could?”
You nodded, “Of course, Hotch. I’m here to please.”
His skin tingled. The innocent look behind your eyes pushing him even more on edge. He was silently opening and closing his mouth. Brows netted together as he breathed heavy. Tension so thick in the room neither of you could catch your breath.
“This is so inappropriate,” he softly chuckled to himself, stretching his neck, voice not above a whisper. Feeling your own heartbeat pound out of your chest. Hotch sighed, “I need to cum.”
Your eyes flew harshly open. Lips parting as you attempting to respond to him. Face immediately flushing with arousal as you clinched around nothing. Eyes shooting down to his crotch. Surprised to see the outline of his cock pressing against his pants. Thin, soft material not hiding his length.
“Either you can help me, or I need you to leave the room so I can handle it myself,” Hotch quickly said, desperation on his tone.
“Do you… want… me to-to help?” You shyly questioned.
Hotch smiled with an exhale. Perfect teeth on display for the first time tonight as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. Blinking open to lock into you, “Yes.”
Such a simple statement. Causing so much confusion inside you. Of course, you had been flirting back and forth for some time now. And yes the idea of seeing Hotch’s cock, especially how it fit in your hand, had your body tingling.
But what about work?
What would your coworkers say? What would your superiors say? What if this was only for tonight?
You threw caution to the wind. Choosing to have some fun with him, even if you never spoke of this again.
You crawled closer to him on the couch, Hotch’s arm wrapping around your back when you sat on your knees. One of his hands coming up to grip at your t-shirt. Pulling the collar down with his finger and looking down it. Smiling at the sight of your lightly covered breasts. Blushing at how natural his hands felt on you. Leaning in to place your lips on his neck. Breath hitching in his throat at the soft feeling.
“Did you do this with all the other girls?” You asked between kisses, genuine curiosity and a bit of shame taking over your senses.
“Of course not,” Hotch exhaled, “You know it’s only you.”
You kissed up his jugular, resting along his jawline. Hotch’s smile never left his face as you feathered your lips along his skin. Hand running strong fingers up and down your back. Your own hand gently ghosting down his front to rest on his hard cock.
Hotch’s body twitched, causing him a small amount of pain. Wincing as he squinted his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“
“Don’t be,” Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek. Pulling you into a passionate kiss. Lightning stimulated your nerves at his taste and feeling. Both of you humming together. Tongue slipping past your lips as it grazed your teeth. Hunger apparent by the way he held onto you. Smiling as you became overwhelmed with emotions.
“What?” Hotch asked, unable to stop himself from returning your expression. Cheeks glowing.
“I just… just wanna know what’s got you all worked up?” pressing your lips back to his as your hand outlines his shaft. Hotch’s throat tightened at your touch. Breathy and clingy.
“I’ve been locked up here, not even a second of alone time, for weeks. And when you have nothing else to do, your mind wanders. And mine kept going to the same place time and time again,” toothy grin taking over his expression as he continuing caressing your face.
You cocked an eyebrow at him, not saying anything back.
“You’re going to tell me you don’t masturbate?” Hotch chuckled, an offensive hint on his tone.
Your face flooded red as you remembered the last time you had. Remembering the image of Hotch’s body above yours, strong arms flexing on either side of your head, hips pumping into yours as he held eye contact.
“I… um— yeah, I do. I have a vibrator in my night stand,” you kissed him again. Loving how his shaft hardened against your touch.
“Hmm,” he hummed against your lips, “Wish you’d brought it with you.”
“Hotch,” you giggled, playful embarrassment in your voice.
“I know you look so pretty when you orgasm,” Hotch smiled between kisses. Your heart thumped in your chest. Overwhelmed in the best way possible. Fingers continuing to lightly rub against his length.
“Probably really pretty with your mouth around my cock too,” Hotch’s hand held onto the back of your head. Keeping your mouth against his.
“God- you are needing aren’t you?” You chuckled into his mouth. The two of you shared in making flirtatious noises. Continuing to latch onto one another’s mouths. Slowly sliding into the floor between his legs. Fluttering your lashes up at him as you leaned forward to play with his waistband.
“Please,” Hotch squinted his eyes closed. Jaw tensed and Adam’s apple bobbing.
Slowly, you helped raise his hips so that you could pull his sweatpants down his legs. Taking your time to make sure he did not have to overwork his body. Mouth watering when you saw the tent pitched in his boxer-briefs. Flattening your hands against his thighs, framing his cock.
Hotch’s hand tethered in your hair, lust blown eyes admiring you below him. Moaning when your lips pressed a kiss against his clothed member. Freeing his cock from its confides. Taking in all the details. Thick and swollen, vein running over the top side as his head leaked. Tongue licking a stripe up the underside.
Hotch rutted forward, moaning loudly as he gripped the couch for stability. Head leaned forward to watch you. Your hand gripped him at the base. Stroking upward with a twist of your wrist. Thumb swiping over the slit to collect the precum. Loving how his velvety skin felt in your palm.
Tender lips kissed along his shaft before sucking on the head.
“Oh my God,” Hotch groaned. Trying his hardest to not move. Not wanting to take away from the pleasure by causing himself pain. His brows upturned and jaw hung open as he watched you go lower onto him.
Stopping when your nose met the soft hair at his base. Gagging around him momentarily. Taste of him overwhelming any other sense you had. Your tongue flattened underneath him as you began to bob. Almost completely coming off him before going down again.
“So good,” Hotch praised breathlessly. Causing your own arousal to pool inside you. Wishing you could crawling into his lap and take his cock inside you. Knowing his body was in no shape for that kind of physical activity.
Having him squirm from your mouth would have to do for now.
Hotch looked so beautiful with his face all flushed and shoulders heaving. Chest rapidly rising and falling as he audibly breathed. Your hand came up to wrap around his base once more, allowing your lips to meet your fingers with each movement. Causing you to move much faster than before.
“Y/N,” Hotch moaned.
Feeling his cock twitch between your lips. His end was nearing. Continuing at the pace you had given him. Sloppy sounds coming from your mouth as your tongue swirled around his length.
“I’m close,” Hotch breathed out. His veins on his neck poking out as he strained back. Sounds of him whimpering and grunting was like music to your ears. Salty taste filling your mouth as he approached his finish. Twisting your wrist and going down further on him. Coaxing him to his end.
Hotch’s hand gripped the back of your hand with strong fingers as he came. Breath hitching in his throat as his jaw hung open. Looking down to watch you swallow the ropes of cum he shot into your mouth. Hand traveling down to caress your cheek when he was done. Thumb rubbing circles into your flushed cheeks.
You caught your breath as you doed your eyes up at him. Smiling as you rested your head into his hand. Licking your lips to get any remnants of him off your face.
Hotch patted the seat beside him. Instructing you to come sit with him once more. You rested your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your lower back. Grateful lips kissing your head.
Finding a position that was comfortable for you both as you rested your eyes. Engulfed by his body heat and musk. His heartbeat thumped against your ear. The day catching up with you as you relaxed.
“We can go lay in bed,” Hotch softly suggested.
You nodded. Standing to your feet to help him up. Shuffling down the hallway as Hotch limped holding onto you. Walking him over to his large mattress. Hotch smiled up at you, fingers holding onto your hand as you stood in front of him. Looking like a lovesick fool before you. Causing you to blush because it was you that had him looking like that. Smiling wider than you had ever seen him.
“Are you sure… that you want me in here? If you’d rest better, I can go—“
“Don’t even try,” Hotch grinned, pulling your hand to his lips and gently kissing. Tugging you into the bed with him. Landing directly beside him. Giggling as you snuggled under the blanket with him. Hotch’s lips kissed every piece of skin he could. Coating you in his love.
“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” Hotch’s lips finally found yours. Smiling with a soft chuckle ending his sentence.
“Glad I could help,” you scrunched your nose up with a smile. His hand caressed your cheek again, dark eyes scanning your entire face. Seeing you this close for one of the first times. Finally taking the time to look at every freckle, blemish, scar, or any other beauty mark you had. Never having had someone look at you the way he was now.
Your eyes were growing heavy. Blinking slowly until a yawn came over you. Rolling over to allow Hotch to hold you from behind. Closing your eyes as the plush of his pillows captured you.
His hand snaked around your front. Causing your chest to tighten when you felt him prying at your shorts. His nose trailed the valley of your neck and shoulder. Fingers going down the front of your panties.
“Aaron…?“
“Let me repay you,” Hotch whispered into your ear.
“You don’t owe me anything,” you sighed when his fingertips swiped over your sensitive bud.
“If I can’t fuck you, let me make you cum around my fingers,” Hotch’s deep voice vibrated into your skin. Fingers finding their way into your soaked folds. Circling them before inserting one. Causing you to arch into him and moan. A hum of approval came from him.
Curling his finger inside you as he massaged your insides. Thumb pressing into your clit. Shooting electricity through your veins. Your hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Locks lacing through your fingers. Your jaw hung open at the feeling of him adding an additional digit. Stretching you perfectly.
“Aaron,” you moaned, Hotch held your hand above your head. Fingers gently interlocking with yours while the air from his lips casted across your skin.
“Go ahead, I want to hear you,” Hotch kissed your shoulder.
You moaned at his words.
“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed.
That familiar knot was tightening in your lower half. Hotch knew how to use his fingers. Causing your thighs to quiver and body to jolt. Sounds of him breathing filling your ears, sounding intoxicated by you. Never wanting you to leave his side.
You felt your pussy clench around his fingers. Insides growing more and more sensitive when he would hit the spongy spots.
“Are you gonna cum for me?”
You nodded aggressively. Whining as you rolled your hips against his fingers. Feeling his semi-hard cock press into your ass. Sweat dripped down your skin. Your heartbeat was in your ears as you felt your orgasm washing over you. Walls fluttering around Hotch’s fingers. Moaning his name like a mantra. Grinding down on his hand as your thighs shook.
Hotch smiled against your skin. Loving how you sounded begging and calling out to him. Wishing he could fuck you senseless. Wanting nothing more than to fill you up.
“I knew you’d look pretty orgasming,” lips kissed your cheek. You breathed heavily, grinning at his cocky voice. Rolling over to press your lips into his. Arms wrapping around his neck. Finally finding yourself the most comfortable you had been yet.
Drifting to sleep in his arms.
~~~
[END]
// Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all the love I’ve gotten since writing for Hotch and love seeing everyone reply and comment and everything! As always, my requests are open! I have a Rossi x Reader planned in the next few days that was requested so keep an eye out for that! //
visual is for vibes only, reader's appearance is nondescript!
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!BAU!reader
summary: hotch relives his favourite, incredibly vivid, dream about you
warnings: SMUT - MDNI, wet dream, hotch loves nerdy girls (i don’t make the rules), assistant!reader, p in v, oral (m!receiving), morning wood
word count: 1.1k
a/n: day 3, enjoy!
find the rest of Kinktober 2025 here!
Hotch had never considered himself a man with a particularly high sex drive.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it - he was only human after all - but he had always prided himself on his control. He’d never been so overwhelmed with lust that he couldn’t think. Nothing ever dictated his thoughts but discipline.
That was before you joined the BAU.
You were beautiful in the way that made him stop dead in his tracks. And, not only that, but you were incredibly intelligent, at times, even rivalling Reid in the way your mind whirred with information. It disarmed him. Made him restless.
The first time he noticed you in that way, he had felt… wrong. Disgusting. You’d only been with the team for a week when you walked into the office in a pencil skirt, completely unaware of the impracticality of your outfit choice or the profound effect you were having on him.
The image of your thighs had burnt into the back of Hotch’s skull, remaining no matter how hard he tried to shake it. Hotch wanted nothing more than to slide his hand between them and watch you come apart, watch you crush his fingers.
But he couldn’t. You were younger. So much younger. His subordinate. Off-limits in every sense of the word.
And yet, no amount of cold showers or late-night paperwork could scrub the thought of you from him.
When you’d switched to slacks, he’d almost sighed in relief. He thought he was safe again. No more distractions. No more sleepless nights.
Except there were a hundred more, because your personality was just as infuriatingly gorgeous.
Your wit kept him on his toes. Your laugh lit him up. He started chasing your reactions, aching to be the reason behind your grin, even craving the stern furrowing of your eyebrows when he said something so blatantly untrue.
Hotch had wanted to fail just to watch you teach him. What had you turned him into?
His control, the thing he valued most, his one constant, was slipping further from his grasp with every day that passed.
Nothing was safe anymore.
Small talk. Case briefings. Progress Reviews. All of it, contaminated by his own mind that he couldn’t seem to wrangle into submission.
Every word from your lips seemed weighted, every glance lingered longer than it should and he hated that he’d noticed.
His mind wandered when you leaned over his desk or when your hand brushed his arm in passing. Hotch could feel the line between propriety and obsession thinning and, still, he couldn’t stop it.
At night, it was worse. His body ached with the restraint of the day and his mind betrayed him with flashes of you until he fell asleep.
And, he wasn’t safe there either.
There was one dream that he went back to far more often than was healthy:
It always started the same way his mornings did in real life.
You walked into his office at nine sharp, balancing his coffee, just the way he liked it, and the most recently approved case files for him to look over.
You were always perfectly professional and yet there was something about the edge to your uniform that had Hotch’s cock twitching.
Your tights would be the slightest bit see-through. Or your skirt, that little bit too figure-hugging. Your hair, just mussed enough that he could pretend he’d been the one to rough you up the night before.
In other words, absolutely gorgeous.
He could see it clear as day.
You’d place the files on his desk, offer that small, practiced smile of yours and turn to leave. And, then, just at the last second, he’d call your name and you’d turn around to face him with your pretty lips parted in that cute shock of yours.
He’d tell you to lock the door. You’d listen, without question. He knew you would. You were good like that.
And then, you’d be on your knees. In front of him.
His pupils would dilate at the sight of your plush thighs spreading out on the carpet and how could he do anything but part those pouty lips of yours further when you look up at him with those big, beautiful eyes?
You swallow him whole the second he does. Your cheeks swell deliciously as you try to take him all in. He practically coos at the sight.
His rough-skinned thumbs brush over the gentle, smooth expanse of your cheeks and your eyes begin to fall shut as he guides your head up and down.
But that won’t do.
He taps your cheeks and a simple shake of his head tells you that he wants your eyes open. On him.
You let out a mewl of protest around him, but that only makes Hotch hiss in pleasure. It feels too wonderful- you feel too wonderful for him to care about what you want right now.
You let him use you as he pleases.
A woman usually so carefully collected, brought to her knees like that, all for him. His beautifully smart, darling girl. It’s sinful.
And when he tires of that, he has you up on your feet, takes you by the hand and presses you up against his desk instead.
You always seemed to like that. You’d grin against his lips, giggling as you felt both Hotch and the edge of the desk pressing into you cuttingly.
Little hiccups of moans would escape your lips between every kiss and Hotch would melt at the way just one of his hands engulfs your entire face as he kissed you.
He’d begin to undress you, then. Feverishly. With animalistic abandon. Your blouse. Then, your bra. And then his hands would be all over your chest. He wanted his fingers to mark every inch of your skin.
And you let him every time.
Your hand would sweep across his desk in rom-com-esque fashion, sending weeks of endless case notes tumbling to the ground - and Hotch wouldn’t even care.
How could he when you were breathless and spreading yourself out of his desk ready for his taking?
He’d kiss your lips and down your neck, your sternum, all the way to the waistband of your pencil skirt and then he’d be pushing it up - not off - your thighs and slotting himself between your legs.
Your eyes would roll back. Hotch would have his first taste of you as he pushed inside and he’d swear he could come from that feeling alone.
He’d start to thrust, groaning as he buried himself deeper and deeper, all the way to the hilt and then-
He’d wake up.
In his apartment. Alone. And painfully hard at the thought of you.
He already dreaded the fact that he wouldn’t be able to meet your eyes all morning without getting worked up all again.
You were driving him mad and you didn’t even know it.
Summary: The BAU was stunned to learn Hotch had been secretly dating you, a high-profile lawyer. When you arrived at the office, their teasing only intensified—especially after you revealed how much Hotch actually talked about them. Despite his attempts to stay composed, his fond looks and hand-holding gave him away. The team? Never letting this go.
Pairing: Reader/Aaron Hotchner
Aaron Hotchner had always been a private man. He wasn’t one for sharing personal details—not with strangers, not with acquaintances, and certainly not at work.
So when the team stumbled upon your name in connection to a high-profile case, the reactions were… dramatic, to say the least.
It all started when Garcia pulled up the case details on the conference room screen.
“A well-known CEO is being blackmailed,” she began, scrolling through the information. “Their lawyer is heavily involved in handling the case. They’re one of the most high-profile attorneys in the country, known for representing some of the biggest names in business. Their reputation is—”
She stopped.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her mouth falling open slightly.
Morgan frowned. “What is it, Baby Girl?”
Garcia blinked at the screen, then looked at Hotch—then back at the screen.
“Uhh…” She bit her lip. “Guys, we may have… a situation.”
JJ leaned forward. “What kind of situation?”
Garcia hesitated for half a second before enlarging the lawyer’s name on the screen.
Your name.
The room went silent.
Dead silent.
Emily was the first to react. “Wait. Y/N L/N? As in the Y/N L/N? The one who’s been on Forbes’ power list? The one who has an entire wing of the courthouse named after them?”
Morgan let out a low whistle. “Damn. I didn’t know we were dealing with legal royalty.”
Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Not just legal royalty. Hotch’s girlfriend.”
The entire team turned to stare at Aaron.
Hotch, who had been completely calm up until this moment, simply exhaled through his nose.
“I was going to tell you eventually,” he said, voice even.
Garcia gasped. “You were dating one of the most powerful lawyers in the country and you didn’t tell us?!”
Hotch gave her a pointed look. “I don’t discuss my personal life at work.”
Emily crossed her arms, grinning. “So let me get this straight. You’ve been secretly dating a high-profile, ridiculously successful lawyer, and we’re only finding out because of a case?”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘secret,’” Hotch said smoothly.
“Oh, I would,” Morgan smirked. “Damn, Hotch. You really had us fooled. You leave work like a machine—no hints, no clues—and the whole time, you’re going home to one of the most well-known attorneys in the country?”
JJ was still processing. “How long has this been going on?”
Hotch didn’t answer right away, which only made the team collectively lose their minds.
“Oh my God,” Garcia breathed. “It’s serious.”
Rossi smirked knowingly. “It must be. Otherwise, Hotch would have shut down this conversation ten minutes ago.”
Hotch remained calm, as always, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth—a tell that only Rossi seemed to catch.
Then—before the team could grill him further—Hotch’s phone buzzed on the table.
One glance at the screen, and his entire expression softened.
Emily caught it immediately. “Oh my God. That’s her, isn’t it?”
Garcia practically lunged across the table, trying to peek at the screen. “Does she call you ‘Aaron’? Or do we get something cuter? Like ‘honey’? Or ‘babe’?”
Hotch calmly put his phone in his pocket.
“I’ll meet you all at the jet in an hour.”
And with that, he walked out—leaving chaos in his wake.
The team erupted the second the door closed.
“Okay, I need details!” Garcia practically shouted.
JJ shook her head in disbelief. “I just… I can’t believe it.”
Morgan grinned. “Oh, I can. I mean, think about it—a powerful lawyer and an FBI Unit Chief? That’s a power couple.”
Emily nodded. “And you just know Hotch tries to act all serious and professional at home, but she probably teases him constantly.”
Rossi just chuckled, shaking his head. “This is going to be fun.”
The case required your involvement, which meant you had to come to the BAU to review evidence.
Hotch had warned you that the team knew about your relationship now.
What he hadn’t told you was how dramatic their reactions had been.
So, when you walked into the bullpen in your impeccably tailored suit, heels clicking against the floor with a confidence that only came from years of courtrooms and high-stakes negotiations—
All eyes were on you.
“Damn,” Morgan muttered under his breath. “She’s even more intimidating in person.”
You smirked. “You must be Derek Morgan.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You know me?”
“Oh, I know all of you,” you said smoothly, setting your bag on the conference table. “Aaron talks about you more than he realizes.”
Garcia practically squealed. “He talks about us?!”
You nodded. “He pretends he doesn’t, but trust me—he does.”
Emily grinned. “Please tell me he complains about paperwork.”
You laughed. “Endlessly.”
JJ, still slightly in shock, shook her head. “I just can’t believe this. You’re… you’re Y/N L/N. And you’ve been dating Hotch this whole time?”
You glanced toward Aaron, who was watching the entire interaction with a slight smirk—his version of amusement.
“Well,” you said, “we weren’t exactly hiding it. We just didn’t announce it.”
Morgan shook his head. “Man. We’ve been working with Hotch for years, and somehow, you cracked the code.”
You turned toward Aaron, smiling softly.
“He’s not as complicated as you all think.”
And that? That made Hotch’s expression shift—because you weren’t just saying it. You meant it.
Rossi, who had been watching the whole interaction with quiet amusement, finally spoke up. “Alright, now that we’ve all processed the fact that Hotch is dating a lawyer who could probably destroy us all in court—”
“Definitely could,” you interrupted, smirking.
Rossi chuckled. “We should probably get to work.”
The team reluctantly shifted gears, but as you took your seat beside Hotch, Garcia whispered not-so-quietly to Emily:
“I still think she calls him babe.”
Hotch sighed.
You just smiled.
And when Aaron subtly reached under the table, intertwining his fingers with yours, you knew—
Mal's Note: She's baaaaaaaaack!!! Lmao, for real though, life has been insane. So, sorry to have abandoned you all for a month and a half... shit happens. This will be the start of a series. I don't know how many parts it will be, or how often I'll post new parts, because it'll really just be something I write on when I have a kinky idea with no real plot to back it up. Though I get the feeling you horny motherfuckers will enjoy that. 🥰🥰 I'm so glad to be posting again, I have several other fics close to being completed so I hope I'll be back again later this week! Also please note that this was completed at 4 am and was not proof read, I hadn't the fucks to give.
Love,
Mal 🩷
Pairing: Divorced!Hotch x Prosecutor!Reader (Reader is fem, has also been divorced)
Warnings: 18+ from this point on, MDNI (I'll block you, don't test me if you like my fluffy content) Okay, they've been warned, now for the good stuff, Alcohol use but not abuse, vaginal fingering, oral Fem receiving, p in v sex unprotected (he pulls out, but don't be silly, wrap your willy!), squirting (Hotch really likes that), Male ejaculation decribed a little creatively, playful spanking, Hotch is an ass man (Hotch is a whatever he can get his hands on man, lets be real), Lots of flirting, and sexual tension in the beginning, Haley Hotchner mentioned, Aaron and Haley are divorced but she's still alive, discussion of failed marriages, I think that's everything, please tell me if I missed something important so I can add it!
WC: 6.4k
AO3
Mal's Masterlist
You never imagined that Aaron Hotchner could get any hotter than he had been when you’d dated him for all three years of law school. Not a single part of you thought that was even remotely possible, he’d been fine as hell. A near perfect ten.
But here he was.
Having aged like the finest wine over the last fifteen years, and though things hadn’t worked out between you then… you found yourself glancing at his left hand trying to glimpse his ring finger.
No ring.
How he was still single at his age, you’d never understand. He was only a year or so older than you, and you were pushing forty.
He was saying… something? You had no idea what… your brain had short circuited as soon as he’d shook your hand and you’d noticed his sleeves were rolled up.
Something about needing your signature for the plea deal… you thought.
You were the District Attorney in the county he was currently working a case in.
You hadn’t known he was here, not having kept up with him when you’d gone your separate ways. The case was horrible and you’d been monitoring it closely… from a distance. You trusted the local leos to do their jobs and when they’d said they were calling in the FBI you hadn’t questioned it.
But you hadn’t been expecting Aaron Motherfucking Hotchner to come marching into your office with a plea deal agreement in hand.
As far as you’d been concerned, he was practicing in D.C., kicking ass just like he had in every class you’d shared.
Apparently not.
He was leaning against a table in your office—same ole Aaron, he’d always choose to lean on something instead of sitting in a chair like a normal human being—with his arms folded over his chest and his legs crossed at his ankles.
This case must have been rough for him, he was practically indecent compared to how you always remembered him dressing in a professional setting. His top two buttons were undone, not a tie in sight, and his sleeves—as previously mentioned—were rolled up almost to his elbows.
How slutty of him.
Had he gotten broader in the shoulders and chest? Was that possible?
The way his chest tapered down to his waist was way too eyecatching for your sanity. His thighs were so muscular that you could tell he was flexing them through his slacks…
Jesus…
He was fucking gorgeous.
And as you trailed your eyes back up to his face you realized he was smirking at you as he spoke… What was he saying?
“Then the purple monkey stole my Aston Martin and took it for a joy ride with the pink hippopotamus and they wrecked it on The Beltway.” He said wryly.
Fuck. Busted. Try to play it off.
“What?” You blinked, shaking your head in confusion. “Sorry, I was… distracted.”
“Yes, I could see that.” He said smugly. “Are you done undressing me with your eyes or should I let you finish before I start over?”
Oh so he’s going there… nice play Hotchner… too bad you forgot who your opponent was.
You smirked.
“Give me two more minutes.” You joked, “I wasn’t done, only made it to your thighs.”
He laughed and it was exactly how you remembered it.
“My thighs?” He raised a brow at you.
“Yeah, actually if you could just turn around that’d be great.” You smirked back teasingly. He actually flushed a little when you said, “I just can’t get a good look at your ass from this angle, seriously Aaron… you look good. Have you been working out?”
He shook his head and smiled softly.
“I knew better than to try and embarrass you… you don’t know what embarrassment is.” He chuckled.
You winked at him, smiling softly.
“Really though, that was unprofessional of me, I apologize.” You offered, “What were you saying?”
He chuckled and shook his head, before giving you the run down on the plea deal he wanted you to sign—for the second time—as he handed it to you across your desk.
His fingers brushed yours and it was like electricity coursed through you.
The chemistry is still there then…
When he was done, you bit your lip and sighed.
“You know I can’t sign that for you, I didn’t know you were the lead on this case, so I’ll have to recuse myself.” You reminded him. “We have history and as bad as this case is, we can’t allow any conflict of interest.”
“I agree… So who would you reassign it to? Because I need this deal today.” He frowned, not really at you, but at the possibility that the deal might fall apart and he wouldn’t get his confession.
“My A.D.A. is down the hall, last door on the left, tell his aide I sent you and she’ll let you in.” You smiled, and pointed down the hall.
“Thank you.” He said sincerely. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since we… broke up after graduation.”
And why had you done that again??
Looking at him right now it seemed like the stupidest decision you’d ever made. You’d been a power couple in law school, professors even had a hard time winning an argument against the both of you. You thought as though you shared a brain, and you were a menace in mock trials. So much so, that your classmates had started calling you The Sharks, Tiger and Bull. Instead of getting offended, you’d started calling each other by those nicknames affectionately.
You wondered if he remembered.
“Uh, I- I’ve been good, mostly…” You said vaguely. “I’ve been a DA here for about five years now.”
“That’s great!” he praised, with a—thigh clenchingly—gorgeous smile.
“And you?”
“I’m the unit chief over the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico.” He shrugged, as if that wasn’t impressive, apparently having learned some humility over the years. “Have been for about seven years now.”
Seven? You only graduated law school fifteen years ago… had he only practised for a few years??
“That’s amazing, Aaron!” You smiled at him, “What made you decide to switch careers?”
He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
“After about two years, I decided that by the time the cases got to my desk… It felt too late, like I wasn’t doing enough… so I went to the academy and–” He was interrupted by his phone ringing, he pulled it out and looked up at you. “I have to take this.”
He looked so apologetic about it.
“Of course.” You murmured with an encouraging smile.
“Hotchner.” He said into the phone.
The conversation lasted all of thirty seconds before he was hanging up.
“I have to get back down to the station, so I better go get this deal signed.” He murmured, his brows drawn in concern, “But you and I should catch up when this is over. Maybe over drinks?”
He looked so hopeful, and you wouldn't mind seeing where a few drinks with him would lead.
“That sounds fun!” and it really did, you would love to catch up with him. Things hadn’t ended badly, it had been a mutual decision to choose careers over each other, and neither of you had seemed to regret it. You knew you hadn’t, until maybe today.
Though you wouldn’t mind reminiscing… for old times sake.
“Pick a place and let me know!” He said, “I’m not familiar with this area.”
“Oh I don’t live here, I commute!” You told him, “I’m actually pretty close to Quantico!”
“Perfect!” He smiled. “In that case I know the perfect place.”
“Great!” You smiled back, “Can’t wait.”
“Me too.” He said as he stood and headed toward the door, he stopped on the threshold and looked back with a genuine smile. “It really is good to see you Tiger, I mean it.”
The nickname stole the breath from your lungs.
“You too, Bull.” You said softly, “Call me?”
“Count on it.”
He turned then, and walked down the hall away from your office. As he disappeared from sight you saw a card laying on the table he’d been leaning on.
It was his business card, with his personal number written on the back.
You couldn’t help yourself as you texted the number immediately.
You were definitely gonna fuck this man. He may have been your ex… but you were ready to reconnect.
The flirtatious texting continued over the next forty eight hours that it took Aaron and his team to wrap up the case, until he finally texted you one evening just as you were getting off work.
You sent him your address, then made the thirty minute drive home.
You were probably three or four glasses of wine in, and the conversation was flowing. Aaron had only had a glass of whiskey that he was still nursing, as responsible as always, he would make sure he was capable of safely driving you home.
“What I have been dying to know is how you’re still single at almost forty, looking like that!?” You finally blurted out when he’d finished telling you about how he’d risen to unit chief so quickly.
His smile dropped away for a moment and you froze, you hadn’t meant to upset him, or offend him.
“Aaron I-” You started to back pedal, but he put his hand over yours on the bar.
“It’s okay,” He assured you, then sighed, “I was married for 12 years, she left me and we got divorced a little over a year ago. We have a son, his name is Jack, he’s almost four.”
Oh shit.
“I’m sorry…” You murmured, “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I spent more time on the job than I did on our marriage. She was home alone with a newborn and then a toddler… and we just fell apart. I could’ve fixed it, transferred to a new unit and had a regular nine to five… but I’m selfish. I didn’t wanna leave my team.” He explains. “I had more loyalty to them than I did to my wife. So she left me, and I don’t blame her. What about you? As amazing as you are, someone didn’t put a ring on your hand?”
You chuckled softly and gave him a commiserating glance.
“Same song, different verse I’m afraid…” You muttered, “We were married for six years, and then I won the case that made my career, and I got promoted to ADA, the hours were the same, but the case load was huge, I would stay late to work and it got to the point where we were never home at the same time. Then he accused me of cheating, which is a whole other thing, but yeah… we split pretty quickly after that. I had a glow up and got another promotion, so I can’t really say that I miss him.”
“He accused you of cheating?” Aaron asked, with an incredulous look on his face. “When would you have had the time?”
“Exactly!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “I don’t have the time for a real relationship, much less a secret affair! Fuck, I don’t even remember the last time I got laid! I think I might’ve slept with some clerk from one of the judges offices after the divorce was finalized—to celebrate—but it wasn’t memorable enough to be sure it even happened because I was so drunk that night. I’ve had my nose to the grindstone ever since, and there’s no time for much else. I do miss sex though. I think I’d be much less stressed—and a lot less bitchy—if I had someone that I could just text, ‘Hey come fuck my brains out,’ and they would and it would be great! Then they’d leave until I needed them again! Do people still do that at forty? What did we call it in college? Fuck buddies? Yeah… I need a fuck buddy.”
He was giving you that smile, the one that used to turn you inside out and make you wet just looking at him. It still worked apparently.
“I believe the adult term for that arrangement is ‘Friends With Benefits,’ I’m pretty sure they made a whole movie about it.” He teased, his eyes sparkling the way they always did when you were entertaining him.
“They did, two of them, actually! I’ve seen them both, I prefer the Mila Kunis one to be honest. But, I think I’ll stick with the term ‘fuck buddies’ it feels more mutual that way, and less committal.” You thought aloud, and then looked over at him again. “Yes, I think an emotional support fuck buddy is exactly what I need.”
He laughed, tipping his gorgeous head back, and letting the sound roll off his lips. He was so goddamn sexy.
“I was right, Tiger,” he said through a chuckle, “you haven’t changed a bit.”
You smiled back at him and studied him thoroughly.
“Well, you did get hotter, I stand by that,” you observed, and earned a soft snort from him in response, “but I think you’re more stern now, more serious. Like you forgot how to have fun.”
“I’m having fun right now.” He pointed out, smirking at you softly.
“Yeah, but it’s impossible not to have fun with me.” You returned teasingly. “I’m too crazy not to be fun.”
“That’s true.” He admitted, with a tilt of his head and a raise of his brows, biting back a smile.
“You’re not supposed to agree with that, asshole!” You exclaimed, laughing as you slapped his bicep playfully.
Holy shit he’s got nice biceps… Would he just take a hint and fuck you already?!
You were fairly certain you were being beyond obvious, and you didn’t remember him being this thick headed when you initiated sex while you were together. Granted that was fifteen years ago…
The conversation carried on for nearly ten more minutes, until you’d both finished your drinks—your fifth glass of wine to his one and only glass of whiskey—then he pulled out his wallet, and gave you a look when you tried to open your purse.
“Are you ready to go, Tiger?” He asked, after he settled the tab with the bar tender.
“I’m ready if you are, Bull.” You said back teasingly, it felt good to just be friends with him again, even if you wanted to jump his bones… desperately. That’s how your relationship had started after all, as friends.
The ride back to your place was filled with idle chatter—mostly yours—but as you got closer and closer to your destination, you got more and more nervous. So you talked more, and he started to talk less and less.
Until he pulled up to the curb outside your house. He didn’t say anything, he just got out of the car and came around to your side. As you gathered your purse and slipped on your coat, he opened the door for you, offering you a hand to help you out of his mid sized SUV. A range rover, which you now recognized as a dad car, granted a very sexy dad car.
He guided you to your door with a hand on your back and kept it there—almost protectively—as you unlocked your front door. He didn’t remove it until you opened the door and stepped over the threshold. He leaned against the door staying firmly outside, but making no move to leave, or say goodbye, he just waited as you took off your coat and hung it up.
“Are you waiting for something?” You asked him teasingly.
“I’m just waiting for you to either invite me in or say goodnight.” He shrugged, smirking at you with a slight wrinkle between his brows.
“What are you, a vampire?” You joked with a giggle, “Get in here Hotchner, I’ll give you the house tour and we can have another drink.”
He stepped up into the house, took off his own coat, and waited for you to shut the door, but when you turned around to face him…
He pinned you to it.
One hand on your waist, the other against the door, just over your head and to the right.
“The house tour can wait, I wanna re-familiarize myself with you first.” He murmured, almost against your lips, his nose just brushing yours. “Unless you’re opposed to that, of course.”
You couldn’t fucking breathe, his eyes were burning into yours, his breath on your lips made it impossible to think of a response, and his hand on your waist was like a brand.
“No objections here.” You whispered, breathlessly, then closed the short distance between his lips and yours. Draping your arms on his shoulders and wrapping your leg around the back of his.
He wasted no time, lifting you up off the ground by the backs of your thighs—never breaking the kiss that had quickly become rushed and messy—your legs wrapped around his waist like it was still second nature, your dress riding up your thighs to your hips. Which he took full advantage of, gripping your ass firmly to hold you aloft as he kept your back pressed against the door.
He started trailing kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck, nipping, licking and sucking gently as he went.
“God, I thought you were never gonna take a hint…” You panted, your hands threaded through his hair, your head thrown back to give him better access.
His answering chuckle rumbled through his chest and into yours, making your pussy clench around nothing. You were gonna need him to get this show on the road.
“Sweetheart, I’ve had your intentions figured out since the thorough eye fucking you gave me in your office.” He murmured against your neck, between kisses and gentle bites. “You’ve never been subtle, Tiger. You were always an open book to me.”
Hearing that nickname from his lips, in this context, was enough to pull a moan from yours, and he laughed softly at the sound.
“Where’s your bedroom, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling back to look at you, with your cheeks flushed and breath shaky. “God you’re beautiful.”
Then he was kissing your lips again before you could answer.
If you had been capable of higher thoughts, you would have said something like, ‘should’ve been patient enough for the house tour,’ or even just, ‘up the stairs, last door on the right.’
Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell up from down—not with his tongue caressing yours like that—much less think coherently enough to give him understandable instructions.
Yes, it’d been that long, and yes, you were that desperate. Who were you to judge yourself?
“The bedroom's too far, take me to the couch.” You whimpered against his lips instead, and you didn’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about it either.
He pulled his head back just enough to take a look around, easily spying the couch in question, in the living room, just off to the left of the entryway. Then he pulled you away from the wall, carried you the ten or fifteen feet of space to the couch, sat you gently on the edge of it, and got on his knees between your legs. His hands ran up your thighs to the lace of your panties, he hooked his fingers into the waist of them, tugging them down as you leaned back and lifted your hips up so he could get them off.
You didn’t know where they went after that, you weren’t paying attention, because then he took his hands and spread your thighs even wider…
Just so he could look at you, spread wide for him.
You knew what he’d find, you’d been wet for hours, and now that he was actually touching you…
“You’re absolutely dripping for me, aren’t you?” He asked, so smugly rhetorical, with a smirk that had you clenching.
“Obviously, so why don’t you shut up and do something about it already?” You said impatiently, to cover the fact that you were crazed and desperate.
“As you wish, your highness.” He joked sarcastically, then he picked up your legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of both knees and draped them over his shoulders.
He slowly worked his way up your thighs, kissing and sucking marks, with the occasional well placed bite. His hands slid up your thighs to your ass the closer his mouth got to your pussy, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. The way he was taking his blessed sweet time had you squirming before you could even feel his breath against where you wanted him, and the smug set of his brows told you that he knew it.
“Aaron, please…” You whimpered as he hovered, breath fanning over your aching cunt.
“You must want it really bad if you’re using pretty words like please,” He teased, looking up at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “huh, Tiger?”
“Aaron.”
You’d been trying to sound stern, but it came out a strangled plea because right at that moment, he chose to stop teasing.
His mouth on your pussy felt nearly hot enough to burn as he licked a stripe up you, adding to your wetness. When his tongue flattened against your clit, you thought there were stars dancing in your vision.
Your hands found his hair and pulled until he groaned, then he rolled his tongue so that the tip of it flicked your clit perfectly, before he finally closed his mouth around it, sucking lightly.
“Fuck, Aaron!” You cried out, back arching up off the couch, and his soft laughter seemed to sink into your skin and make that ball of pressure in your core even tighter.
Then he slowly slipped a thick finger inside you, curling it just enough to work the pad of it against your g-spot, drawing a ridiculously needy moan from your lips. His eyes met yours as he kept his mouth on your clit, there was amusement in them, but you could see the desire that was quickly overtaking it.
The way his finger was dragging against your inner walls in tandem with the suction he was giving your clit was nearly enough to have you sobbing, pushing you closer and closer with every passing second. You were aware that you were overly sensitive due to being pent up for so long, but you hadn’t gotten head this good since…
Fuck, since Aaron last had his head between your legs… and he’d only gotten better at it.
How you’d ever forgotten about this man’s skill with his tongue… you did not know.
“Holy fucking hell, Aaron!” You whined, as he added a second finger, increasing the intense pressure in your core that much more, until you felt like the slightest bit more would send you into orbit.
“Are you okay?” He murmured, checking in, but barely stopping before he was putting suction on your clit again.
“Yes, please keep going…” You whimpered, and he hummed in satisfied agreement. Which sent vibrations through your clit, that—combined with the suction and his fingers—sent you screaming over the edge.
You felt the warmth as it ran down your cunt to your ass, your eyes—that you hadn’t even realized you’d closed—snapped down to his hand, still between your legs.
The cuff of his sleeve was soaked.
You’d squirted… a lot.
Your eyes met his, and your heart raced as your cheeks burned bright red you were certain. You opened your mouth to start apologizing, but he didn’t let you get a word out.
“Don’t you dare apologize for that, Tiger.” He warned you, “I’ll make you do it again if you do… Fuck, I might anyway… That was so hot, sweetheart.”
“It was?” You asked, still panting and shaking from your orgasm.
The way he was looking at you… it gave you flashbacks to situations just like this one, from years ago. Which made you remember that he had always loved it when you’d squirted as you finished.
“Mm hmm, I’ve been wondering all week if I could still make you squirt like that for me…” He smirked up at you, as he slowly removed his fingers from your cunt, sending a few aftershocks through your body as they skimmed your g-spot on the way out. Making you whimper in response. Then he slowly started to unbutton his shirt and slip it off his shoulders, wadding it up in a ball and tossing it toward the entryway. You took in his bare chest with wide eyes as he stood and tapped your thigh. “Get up on your knees for me, baby. Hold onto the back of the couch.”
You were too stunned to say anything. A, because he was gorgeous, and B, you hadn’t regained control of your brain after coming so hard.
So you just did as you were told, sitting up and climbing to your knees, as you faced the back of the couch, and the large picture window on the far wall.
The curtains were wide open.
Well, the thick, colored curtains were anyway… the sheer, white, gauzy curtains were closed, but with the lights on… you knew anyone out on the street could see in. The view would be blurry, but if someone was watching, they’d know exactly what was happening.
You heard his belt jingle, then his zipper coming down, the rustle of his pants as they hit the floor, and the scuff of them against the carpet as he kicked them away. Next you felt the warmth of his hands, one tapping your thighs apart, the other gripping your hip and pulling it back, then pushing down on your back gently with the first. The heat and hardness of his cock as he lined up at your entrance was enough to have you shivering in anticipation…
But the window…
“Aaron.” You murmured, and he paused at the slight trepidation in your tone.
“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” He murmured back, stroking your thigh and running his tip up and down your slit, gathering wetness onto it.
“The window.” You whispered, looking over your shoulder at him and biting your lip nervously.
“What about it?” He asked, with a smirk that told you he already knew exactly what you’d realized.
“Somebody might see…” You worried, furrowing your brows, but he just chuckled.
“Why do you think I left your dress on?” He asked, raising a brow at you, “If anyone is feeling a little voyeuristic tonight, all they’ll see are two blurry figures, who may or may not be fucking on a couch… Does that bother you?”
Then you recalled a time, when he had fucked you—naked—against your third story, apartment window… and you remembered that Aaron was a bit of an exhibitionist. Of course he didn’t actually want anyone else but him to see you naked, but the small chance that they might see him fucking you excited him a little…
Which in turn… excited you.
“Not at all.” You whispered, licking your lips and giving him a brief smile as you faced the window again. “Was just making sure you knew we were visible.”
“Oh… I knew…” He assured you, and the barely restrained rumble in his voice made your knees a little weaker. His cock lined back up with your entrance and you clenched in anticipation. “Are you ready, baby?”
“Mm hmm.” You hummed, unable to keep from wiggling impatiently.
“Hold still.” He scolded through an amused chuckle, playfully swatting your ass, the sting of it immediately melting into pleasure. Then he slowly pushed the head of his cock inside you. “Relax, pretty girl, let me in…”
His gentle, coaxing tone was meant to be soothing, but it was sexy as hell and only made you clench around him tighter, making him groan. “I really don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Relax for me…”
“I’m trying…” You whimpered, and you really were, but you wanted him so bad that the mere thought of it was making you tense more and more.
He slipped a hand around your waist and between your thighs, easily finding your clit again with his fingertips. As he circled it with perfect precision and pressure, your body had no choice but to relax for him.
He always knew how to make your body bend to his whims.
Why had you broken up with him again?
Your question went unanswered, however, because he filled your aching pussy in one full thrust as soon as you were ready to take it, and your mind went blank.
“Fuck…” You moaned, letting your forehead fall forward to rest on the back of the couch.
He was so deep at this angle, you thought you could feel him in your diaphragm, and he hadn’t even started moving yet. Instead, letting you adjust to his size—which was very considerable—before he began thrusting.
“Ready?” He murmured, his voice strained, wavering as though he could barely speak through the urge to move.
“So ready, let me have it, Aaron.” You encouraged, giving him your best, ‘fuck me hard, please,’ eyes over your shoulder. For good measure, you even whimpered, “Please!”
Which seemed to be all the permission he need to pull back and thrust into you again, harder than before.
“Three pleases in 20 minutes…” He chuckled softly, running his free hand up your back, under your dress, and unhooking your bra deftly, as though he’d done it a thousand times. “You really are pent up, aren’t you sweetheart?”
Before you could decide whether or not to dignify that question with a response, his hand slipped from your back to your chest, beneath the cup of your bra, where he palmed your breast. Squeezing it gently, before finding your nipple with his thumb and rubbing it in a circle, drawing a whine from your throat.
“Shhh, it’s okay pretty girl, I’ve got you.” He cooed, almost condescendingly, as he thrusted into you a little harder.
You knew he was warming you up to rail the absolute fuck out of you, you remembered how he had always started out so gently with you, but by the end… you’d have—well earned and appreciated—bruises.
The thought made you moan, and that only urged him on. Sliding in and out of you at a rapidly increasing pace, his hands both returned to your hips.
“Fuck, sweetheart you’re so wet for me, I can feel it running down my cock.” He growled, squeezing your hips with near bruising strength.
The tone of his voice had you clenching around him, and he reacted… groaning low in his throat, then fucked into you like he no longer had any of his famous self restraint left. The pace would’ve been brutal if you hadn’t wanted it so badly. You could feel him hitting your goddamn cervix with every stroke, your knuckles were white with the force of your grip on the couch. You had to hold on that tightly…
Just to stay up right.
Otherwise you would’ve been bent over the back of the couch. Which didn’t sound horrible, but you didn’t think that angle would feel as amazing as this one.
You could feel yourself careening toward that edge again, the pressure growing and growing to the point of near pain. Your cunt tightening around his cock as it clenched involuntarily, starting that tell tale flutter.
“Aaron I- I’m- oh fuck…” You moaned, feeling your entire body begin to tense and tremble.
“I know, pretty girl, I know, give it to me.” He soothed, no, pleaded, “Let me feel you come on my cock, baby.”
You shattered.
Your body legs shook until they couldn’t hold you up anymore, and his arm wrapped around your waist. Pulling you up and back against his chest, his other hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there.
Any restraint he might have had left was obliterated.
He fucked you through your orgasm, so hard you thought you’d still be able to feel it next week, and that didn’t even seem like an exaggeration.
“Such a good girl,” he rasped against the skin just behind your ear, “coming so hard for me, twice in one night. Making me feel like this… you’re such a good girl…”
You’d always be such a sucker for praise, and you’d always liked the possessive side of Aaron… especially since it only extended to the bedroom.
You hadn’t experienced three orgasms back to back—given to you by a man instead of a vibrator—in well, ever actually. Not even with Aaron all those years ago, that you could remember.
But here you were, with the second rolling into an even stronger third, your pussy nearly squeezing the life out of him.
His hips stuttered and suddenly you found yourself bent over the back of the couch, your dress nearly under your armpits, as he pulled out of you in one fluid motion.
Then he came on your ass and back, with your name on his lips. The hot ropes of his orgasm landing on your skin had another moan wrenching free of your mouth, it cooled quickly and sent shivers up your spine as it ran down your ass cheeks.
Neither of you said anything for a moment, both panting and trying to catch your breath.
“Shit, Tiger, I’m sorry.” He muttered after a minute.
You looked over your shoulder at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
“What on earth could you possibly have to be sorry for?!” You demanded, with an incredulous laugh. “I just came three times. I’d worship the ground you’re standing on if my legs were capable of moving from this position.”
He huffed a nervous laugh, shaking his head, but his eyes were still apologetic as he explained, “I got cum on your dress…”
You laughed for real then, resting your head on the back of the couch.
“It’s okay, Aaron, it'll wash out.” You smiled up at him. “It’s not like this is designer or anything. It’s just a dress, besides, I squirted on your shirt and you told me if I apologized you would make me do it again. So I think we’re even.”
He laughed earnestly then, then patted your thigh affectionately.
“Be still so it doesn’t drip on the couch, I’ll go get something to clean you up with.” He said, and the. He crossed the entryway to the kitchen.
The sink was in plain sight of the couch, so obviously you ogled him the whole time, as he got some damp paper towels and some dry ones, then brought them back to clean you up.
“Fuck, I forgot how spectacular your ass is.” He murmured almost to himself, as he wiped away the evidence of what the two of you had just done. “How could I ever forget an ass like this?”
You laughed, content to lie there and let him look at you, and not sure you had much of a choice…
Your legs were still weak as fuck.
Don’t judge, anyone’s would be after getting dicked down like that…
“I don’t know, I’m wondering how I forgot that you’re this good in bed…” You joked, as he finished up. “Seriously, that was the best sex I’ve had… probably since the last time I had sex with you.”
He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in his throat, and he squeezed your ass playfully.
“I wouldn’t mind reminding you how good at it I am a little more thoroughly this weekend… if you’re up for that?” He said it so casually, you would’ve missed the nervous undertone if you hadn’t been looking at him.
He may have been the profiler in the room, but you’d been a lawyer for just as long, and body language was nearly as important to your career as it was to his.
“What are you proposing, Bull?” You asked him, with a smirk that you hoped would hide your own hopeful anxiousness. “We both know neither of us have time for anything more than casual sex.”
“Just sex,” He murmured, “and friendship, someone to talk to, but no emotional commitment.”
Your smile grew so wide your cheeks ached.
“Aww Bull, are you offering to be my emotional support fuck buddy?” You teased, but inside you were freaking out.
You’d hoped that he’d want to before you’d slept with him, but now that he’d absolutely blown your mind… you were desperate for him to agree.
You didn’t want a relationship, you knew your ambition and drive didn’t leave room for one, but sex like that… it was hard to come by.
That was a poor choice of words, but you knew what you meant.
“Do we have to call it that?” He groaned, but you saw the slight twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“You think it’s cute and you know it…” You laughed, and he smacked your ass playfully in retaliation.
“Fine.” He sighed, “Yes, Tiger, I am offering to be your ‘emotional support fuck buddy’ and if you don’t get up, you may get a round two of my job interview.”
You laughed and gave your ass a flirty little wiggle, watching his eyes darken.
Your stomach did a little flip, but you smirked confidently anyway and said, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
He smirked and hauled you up off the couch, and to your feet.
“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled with an affectionate smile, “and insatiable, but I could get used to that again.”
You just giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then turned away from him.
“I know, but could you help me get out of this dress? Someone made a real mess of it.” You teased, shooting a flirty grin at him over your shoulder. “I’ll throw your clothes in the wash with it so they’ll be clean when you’re ready to leave in the morning.”
“You’re not kicking me out then?” He asked with a smirk, as he stepped closer and his fingers found the zipper of your dress. “I thought fuck buddies didn’t do sleepovers?”
“They don’t…” You shrugged, smiling at the wall in front of you. “But like you said, I’m ridiculously insatiable, and I still haven’t shown you my bedroom.”
“That’s not what I said.” He scoffed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pushed the straps of your dress down your arms, and watched it pool around your feet. “But if you wanna show me your bedroom, pretty girl, I’m more than willing to follow you to it.”
“You say that now…” You warned him, turning to face him and letting the bra he’d unhooked earlier fall to the floor. “But when I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you rest.”
His eyes shone with something nearly primal as he said, “We’ll see who does the most begging…”
You’re always the one who notices the small things , for instances this time it was Hotch’s pants zipper undone that you noticed .
Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader
CW : reader zips up Hatch’s pants , reader calls Hotch daddy not sure if it’s by accident or on purpose, banter between the two through texts messages. Reader is kinda bold but kinda not . Nothing too crazy just funny and cute. Hotch didn’t like being called daddy or did he WC: 1.4k
You notice it. Hotch’s zipper. Undone.
Your stomach twists. What do you even do during a briefing when this is happening?
Eyes flicking around the room—you’re the only one not focused on the case. Of course. Just you. Always you.
Your fingers shake as you grab your phone. You type a message, delete it, start again. Your thumb hovers, frozen. This is ridiculous. Don’t be ridiculous.
Finally, you force yourself to type
You: “Uh… “Sir” I… I don’t even know how to say this without it sounding… weird… but… your zipper’s undone.”
You hit send before you can overthink it. Your chest tightens, your face burns, and you pray he doesn’t look at you… or maybe that he does.
After the briefing, Hotch dismisses everyone. One by one they file out until it’s just you and him left in the conference room.
“Hotch,” you say softly. “Where’s your phone?”
“At my desk,” he answers, brow creasing. “Why?”
You hesitate. You don’t know how to tell him—can’t bring yourself to say the words out loud. The silence stretches, unbearable.
You stand, pushing back from the table.
“Normally,” you say, trying to sound casual and failing, “I wouldn’t ever do this. But it’s been bugging me.”
“What ?” he asks.
You step closer before you can lose your nerve. One quick movement—zip. Done.
“There,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.
“What—” he starts.
You don’t let him finish. You bolt for the door.
“Hey, kid,” Rossi calls, stopping you by the door .
You turn, face burning.
“Never do that to me,” he says, half-amused, half-warning.
You nod quickly and walk away.
Correction—you run.
Hotch walks to his office in a daze. Closes the door. Sits at his desk. He grabs his phone that was by the file.
Your text from earlier is still there.
You:
“Uh… I… I don’t even know how to say this without it sounding… weird… but… your zipper’s undone.”
He exhales once through his nose. Then he types.
Hotch:
My office. We need to talk about what just happened.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
You:
I left the country 🫣
Like… I’m not available.
I’m extremely embarrassed so I don’t think so I’m good.
His jaw tightens. His reply is immediate.
Hotch:
Now. That’s an order.
Your response comes faster than it should.
You:
Hotch don’t—
I’m not there.
I left.
He stares at the screen, unimpressed.
Hotch:
You’re still in the building.
No dots this time. Just silence.
He sets the phone down slowly, already standing.
He opens the door.
You’re already there, fist lifted, about to knock.
Before you can react, his hand closes around your wrist and he pulls you inside. The door shuts behind you with a soft, decisive click.
“Explain,” he says.
Not loud. Worse. Calm.
You swallow.
“Why,” he continues, crossing his arms, posture rigid, “couldn’t you just tell me my zipper was down?”
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.
Instead, he adds—measured, precise, clearly replaying it in his head—
“Instead,” he says, “you walked across a conference room full of federal agents outside of it… and zipped it.”
Your face burns.
“I panicked,” you say quietly. “I tried to text you. You didn’t look at your phone , And then it felt… worse to say it out loud.”
His jaw tightens. He looks away for a second, hand rubbing his temple like he does when he’s trying not to react.
“That was inappropriate,” he says finally.
You nod immediately. “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t—”
“But,” he cuts in, eyes back on you now, steady and unreadable, “running from it made it worse.”
Silence stretches between you.
Then, quieter—almost dry—
“And for the record,” he adds, “you could’ve just said something.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“Yes, sir,” you mumble.
His eyebrow lifts.
“…Don’t call me that right now,” he says.
And that somehow makes it worse.
“ Yes… Daddy, ” you say softly.
The word hits him wrong—too close, too loaded.
Hotch freezes. For a split second, his composure falters. His jaw sets hard, breath measured but uneven, eyes sharpening like he’s forcing something back into place.
“Excuse me?” he says, low, strained.
You try not to smile. Fail. The smallest giggle escapes.
“You think this is funny?” His voice is controlled, but it costs him. You can see it now—the tension in his shoulders, the way he doesn’t step back.
“I—no. I’m sorry,” you say, softer. “I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he cuts in, and this time he’s closer. Too close. Professional words, wrecked delivery.
You meet his gaze. Steady. Certain.
“That’s the problem, Hotch,” you say quietly. “I do.”Something flickers across his face—conflict, restraint, want—gone just as fast.
“That,” he says carefully, voice rougher now, “is why this conversation ends.” You nod. Turn to leave , Behind you, he’s barely contained—
“Don’t ever call me that again,” he says.
A few seconds go by.
“…Unless you want a very different conversation.”
And you shut the door in started walking down the stairs
You can’t believe you just called Hotch that. “Daddy you whispered to your self , what the hell ..
Idiot, you think, hiding your face in your hands as you walk down trying to catch your breath.
“Hey, babygirl,” Derek’s voice cuts in, way too amused. “So… how’d it go in there? ’Cause I’m hearin’ rumors you zipped up Hotch’s pants.”
You groan. “Derek, please don’t,” you say, mortified.
He grins wider. “What? I’m just askin’. You suspended?”
You shake your head slowly. “No,” you mumble. “But I probably should be.” He laughs, warm and teasing. “Damn. Guess I missed something good.” You peek through your fingers. “You’re terrible.” “Yeah,” he says easily. “But you love me.” And unfortunately… he’s not wrong.
A few hours pass.
You’re in the break room, pouring your third cup of coffee, when your phone buzzes.
Hotch:
Why did you call me that?
You close your eyes. Of course.
You:
Hotch…
Three dots. Gone. Then—
Hotch:
Answer me. That’s an order.
You giggle softly.
You:
Just because you add “that’s an order” doesn’t mean I have to answer.
A pause.
Then—
Hotch:
You called me “Daddy.”
You press your lips together, shoulders shaking.
You:
🫣🤣🤣
Hotch:
This isn’t funny.
You sigh, leaning against the counter, finally typing the truth.
You:
Okay—fine.
I panicked.
I needed to focus on literally anything else instead of the fact that I zipped up your pants in front of God and the BAU.
A long pause. Too long.
Then—
Hotch:
That’s… not an acceptable coping strategy.
You smile despite yourself.
You:
Noted.
Won’t be doing that again.
Another minute goes by.
Hotch:
You sure?
You : Hotch …. 🫣….
Then, one more message. Softer. No order attached.
Hotch:
Get back to work.
And suddenly your coffee tastes a lot stronger.
A/notes : this probably bad , but I had to much fun writing this it made me giggle… I would so be the type to do this also .
Summary: You’re dating, but the team doesn’t know yet.
The alarm on Hotch's phone buzzed at 5:47 a.m., exactly thirteen minutes before the one on your phone was set to go off. You felt him shift behind you, his arm tightening for half a second around your waist before he forced himself to let go. It had become a silent ritual during your mornings together: he woke first, stole one more minute of holding you, then slipped out of bed to get ready for the workday ahead.
“Five more minutes,” you mumbled into the pillow that still smelled like his cologne.
“You say that every morning,” he whispered against your hair, lips brushing your temple. “And every morning we both know you're lying.”
You rolled onto your back and cracked one eye open. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, hair adorably rumpled from where your hands had been running through it last night. The soft light from the lamp on his bedside carved shadows across the lines of his face. Even half-asleep, he looked like the put-together unit chief. It was unfair.
“Your tie’s going to be crooked if you don’t let me fix it later,” you said, watching him get dressed.
He gave you the tiniest smile, knowing you were teasing him, and leaned down to kiss you. When he pulled away, you tried to chase his mouth, and he laughed under his breath.
“Shower,” he said, tapping your hip. “I’m making coffee.”
You listened to him walk around the house getting Jack up and ready for school while you scrolled through your phone, deleting any evidence of the text you had sent him at 11:43 the night before that simply said: come to bed, Hotch.
The man was paranoid about subpoenas and the team discovering your little secret before any of you were ready to share the news.
You thought it was cute.
By the time you were both in the kitchen, he was flipping eggs one-handed while the espresso machine hissed. Jack had already been picked up by the bus, so the house was quiet except for the low tones of the radio playing classical because Aaron Hotchner refused to listen to anything with lyrics before 8 a.m.
You leaned against the counter in one of his old T-shirts and watched him move.
There was something stupidly attractive about how competent he was at 6:45 in the morning.
“You're staring,” he said without looking up.
“You have a very interesting spatula technique.”
He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “That a euphemism?”
“Only if you wanted it to be.”
He snorted, plated the eggs, and slid one across the island to you.
Toast popped.
You both ate standing up, shoulders brushing. He stole the sports section of the paper you weren’t reading anyway, and you stole sips of his coffee because you liked it stronger than you would ever admit.
At 6:58, you rinsed your mug and headed for the stairs.
“Leaving in seven minutes,” he called after you.
“I know the drill, Hotchner.”
Upstairs, you changed into the blouse and slacks you had brought over in your covert overnight bag, the one that lived, permanently, in the back of his closet or the trunk of your car.
You were buttoning your shirt when his arms slid around you from behind.
“You looked better in my shirt,” he murmured against your neck.
“And you looked better out of yours, but we aren't having that conversation again, or we'll both be late.”
He hummed, kissed the spot just below your ear that made your knees weaken, then stepped back before you could do something reckless like drag him back to bed.
7:05. You were at the door, keys in hand. He was still upstairs pretending to finish getting dressed. You had perfected the timing: you left first, circled the block once, then headed to the office. He left three minutes later, took the shortcut, and beat you there by eight minutes. Every single day.
You were halfway down the driveway when the front door opened again. He had his suit jacket slung over one arm, tie straighter than you'd like to admit.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. Anyone watching the street would have thought he was just saying goodbye to his partner and not currently pulling of an undercover mission. “You forgot something.”
He stepped close, cupped your face, and kissed you.
When he pulled back, your lipstick was probably ruined a little, but you didn’t care; you could fix that in the parking lot before heading inside.
“See you at the Academy,” he said.
“Try not to look too smug when you beat me there, Agent Hotchner.” You winked.
He smiled.
You drove away first.
By the time you pulled into the FBI parking lot at 7:23, his SUV was already in its designated spot.
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.
Inside the bullpen, Morgan was at his desk, Reid was balancing a coffee and three books, and JJ was on the phone, probably to Will or coordinating with a local PD about an upcoming case. Everything normal.
You dropped your bag at your desk, smoothed your hair, and headed for the kitchenette like you had been up for hours and definitely did not have your boss's handprint still on your ass from last night.
Rossi was already there, leaning against the counter, sipping espresso from a tiny cup that had probably been imported from Italy and cost more than your rent.
“Morning, tesoro,” he said, eyes twinkling with the wisdom of a man who had seen everything twice. “Sleep well?”
You froze mid-pour. “Fine, thanks.”
He nodded slowly, gaze flicking to the faint mark just above your collar that you 100% thought your blouse had covered. “Funny. Hotch mentioned he had trouble sleeping last night. Said he kept getting woken up by… noise.”
Your cheeks burned. “Must’ve been the neighbor’s dog.”
“Mm. Big dog.” Rossi patted your shoulder as he walked past. “Tell Aaron the good coffee’s in the tin labeled ‘decaf.’ He’ll know what it means.”
He was gone before you could form a response.
At 7:58, Hotch walked through the bullpen with his scowl on, coming straight from a meeting with the director. He nodded at the team and stopped by your desk on his way to his office.
“Morning,” he said, perfectly neutral.
“Morning, sir,” you answered, just as neutral.
No one else noticed the way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a case file that didn’t need handing at all.
Rossi, watching from the catwalk above, just shook his head and smiled into his coffee.
One day, you thought, the secret was going to be pointless.
Until then, there was tomorrow morning.
And the morning after that.
And Hotch's ridiculously strong coffee waiting for you at 6:45 sharp.
Mal’s Notes: This… Is… Porn. That’s all… Nearly 60 pages of pure filth, and very little plot… In fact, what plot? I regret nothing.
Love,
Mal🩶
Acknowledgments: @cringeiknow and @theghostofcosmichorrorpast I could not have done this without either of you! I love you both to pieces! You're the best friends and Beta readers a girl could ask for!
Pairings: Hotch x reader, Emily x reader, Spencer x reader
Warnings and tags: DDDNE, 18+ MDNI, you’re responsible for your own media consumption but for the love of god MDNI, Buckle up Folks this list is a doozy, Explicit Sexual Content Past This Point, Discussions Pertaining to reader’s sexuality while reader is not present, reader is female, reader is bisexual, reader has sex with both men and a woman in this fic, if that’s not your thing you should probably move along, mentions of wet dreams, praise kink, implied female masturbation, massage that leads to sex, bisexual Emily Prentiss, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Canon Characters Do Not Engage In Sexual Activity With Each Other, They Do All Engage In Sexual Activities With Reader (at the same time (no d/p I wasn’t feeling that brave)), voyeurism, exhibitionism, Dom/sub and Switch Dynamics, dirty everything, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, EVERYBODY GETS SOME HEAD, Almost everybody gives some head, bodily fluids, ingesting bodily fluids (just cum, male and female, nobody panic), PinV sex, sex on a plane, rough sex, rough oral, biting, bite marks, bruises, post sex bruises, hair pulling, hickies, nipple play, pet names, finger sucking, very slight (microscopic) breath play, begging, reader begging, hand job, Hotch spanks reader twice but it’s minor, unprotected sex WRAP IT UP PEOPLE, deep throating, Aftercare, teasing, subspace, plot what plot, reader tells Hotch to Fuck her like he owns her.
Word Count: 17.8k
Back to Mal’s Masterlist
AO3
The case had been a rough one; with JJ stuck back at home having had her new baby, Rossi away on a book tour, and Derek out on an injured knee from a renovation incident. JJ’s liaison duties had fallen to you, to your silent horror.
It wasn’t that you were bad at public speaking or presenting. It’s just, your palms got all sticky with sweat, your legs shook, and there was a tightness in your chest that you knew was going to stick around for hours.
Which was not exactly ideal when trying to impress your hot boss.
So you stuffed your anxiety down and did what needed to be done. Because even false confidence had to become actual confidence at some point, right?
As of that moment though, you wouldn’t dare let Hotch know you felt out of your depth. Not while you had something to prove, and especially not when any amount of his attention gave you butterflies in your stomach.
With you on PR duty, the stress that Emily and Spencer were under had doubled.
And with Rossi gone, Hotch had no one to split the administrative duties with.
Which left you all so busy that you had barely seen much of Spencer and Emily. While you and Hotch had been alone together at the station the entire time, with little more than orders and questions conveyed back and forth between the two of you.
Until Hotch had gathered you all into a conference room together to go over the evidence and write up the profile—press releases and administrative bullshit be damned.
Which left you reeling, because the three of them were just as stressed as—if not more so than—you, and when they got stressed...
They tended to get undressed.
Not completely—obviously—just a suit jacket here, a few popped buttons there, maybe some rolled up sleeves and messy hair.
But a girl could dream.
And God, did you dream vividly.
Nothing about Hotch escaped your notice. The width of his shoulders and chest made you itch to splay your hands over them. His thick hair would look so tempting between your thighs. You wondered if he would like the way you’d tug on it as he devoured you. Even the way the man dressed drove you crazy. His suits must have been tailored, because they fit far too well for your sanity. His silk ties looked soft and pullable. Your fingers itched to give them a good tug, preferably while guiding him to your lips.
Your attraction to Spencer was different from how you lusted after Hotch.
Spencer had an innocence and pureness about him that was impossible not to adore… An innocence you fantasized about corrupting. You often watched Spencer read, a habit you couldn’t break. It was so hard to look away, however, when he drug his fingers down the page, gentle and reverent. You wondered how that would feel against your ribs. Or lower. His sweet smiles often tempted you to tease him mercilessly. The way his amber eyes lit up when he rambled on made your stomach fill with butterflies. His soft voice always left your heart pounding and your pussy throbbing. Not that he knew that—thank God—though even if he did, it would just embarrass him.
Emily was, well… Emily.
Confident, strong, sassy and could break you in half, something you definitely wished she would do. Her dark hair and porcelain skin were a thing of beauty. The way she held herself with such surety was enthralling. Her clever and bold personality was absolutely deadly, both to unsubs and your libido. You often wondered how it would feel to earn her attention. She had a ‘take charge’ attitude in the field that you were almost sure would extend to the bedroom as well. You found yourself daydreaming about her scarlet lips giving commands of the erotic variety, smiling, and calling you a good girl… Among other things you imagined they would be very good at.
In layman's terms you were metaphorically fucked.
If only you could get physically fucked… specifically, by one of them.
Alas, it’s against regulations to fuck your co-workers. So your imagination, that new vibrator, and—if you were lucky—a wet dream or two would just have to do.
Being alone with one of them was truly a battle between your common sense and your carnal imagination.
However, being in a room with all of them… that was enough to put you in a mental crisis of truly epic proportions.
Just to make everything astronomically worse, you were pretty sure they had started to notice.
They had all started to notice.
You had been so relieved to wrap up the case and finally head home. Until you realized that heading home meant being on that cramped jet for several hours with just the three of them.
Hotch, who was sitting across from you, had immediately noticed that something was off with your demeanor. You were usually so exuberant, talkative and flirtatious in a way that rivaled even Penelope.
Now your eyes darted around the cabin, never lingering longer than a second on anything—especially a person. Your cheeks were flushed, like you were a little overheated or had spent just a little too long in the sun.
His biggest clue, however, was the way your chest expanded in small rapid breaths. He was growing concerned and was about to ask if you were alright.
Before he could, you offered a quick excuse to Emily—who had been chatting animatedly to you—and headed toward the restroom.
“Okay, has anyone else noticed that she’s been acting strangely all day?” Spencer asked the other two, once the bathroom door latched behind you.
Hotch nodded his head, agreeing with Spencer’s assessment of your odd behavior.
“I agree, she’s not been quite herself this week.” Hotch murmured, raising his brows and shaking his head. “She definitely hasn’t been nearly as flirtatious as she normally is.” The usual crease in his brow returned to its proper place. “She didn’t say anything remotely off-color in front of me at all this week, now that I think about it.”
Your quiet, nervous state was so unlike you—not that he had watched you enough to know.
Usually, you would crack a poorly timed joke or two, earning a disciplinary glare, and he would have to bite back a grin all the way through it.
There were no jokes today, no flirting, just intense focus. Your eyes locked on the evidence board. Never straying for a second, not even when he made an attempt to draw your attention. You only responded when asked a direct question and only made eye contact when absolutely necessary.
He had easily noticed your skittish state. How you seemed to duck out of a room as soon as he entered, or disappear for a while and come back laser focused on anything that wasn’t him.
You were usually quite confident. Or at least did a very effective job at hiding it when you weren’t.
“No kidding.” Emily snorted in halfhearted amusement. “I’ve been trying to snap her out of it the entire flight, and apparently, my flirting only made it worse.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t like girls, Em.” Spencer joked with a smug grin.
“She definitely does…” Emily countered, giving Spencer a healthy dose of side-eye and a knowing smirk. “She flirts with me all the time, and Penelope told me that she has an ex-girlfriend. If anything she doesn’t swing your way.”
In Emily’s humble—expert—opinion, you practically had a flashing neon sign above your head that said: GAY!
Hotch chuckled and shook his head, smiling faintly, “I think you’re both wrong.” He refereed. “She’s bisexual, at the least.”
He glanced up from his case file, his brows raised and a smug smirk on his face.
“She very well could be.” Spencer admitted, his face stuck in that expression that said he was overanalyzing every detail about you that could ever apply to this situation. “We could test that hypothesis…”
His eyes were sparkling with a curiosity that was definitely scientific.
“It’s not a bad idea…” Emily mused. “It could be fun… and we do have five uninterrupted hours of airtime left…”
“Ground rules would be necessary,” Hotch added, murmuring almost as if to himself. Pretending to be lost in the case file again. His eyes traced boredly over the lines of text on the page, “and clear consent, from everyone.”
“Now we’re talking.” Emily smirked, sitting up a little straighter. She had been waiting for a chance to take her harmless flirting into a more serious pursuit. “I'm surprised though, you’re seriously gonna let us do this Hotch?”
“I can’t say I’m not curious to see where it goes…” He admitted, smirking a bit. However, his eyes barely lifted from the page, seemingly disinterested.
He was, in fact, very interested.
He saw the way you looked at him—and the other two—on a regular basis. He knew you were attracted to them.
What he didn’t know—with certainty anyway—was how you would react to an advance by all three of them at once. He was certain, however, that you were in for the surprise of your life—and a very good time—if you let it get that far.
“It’s settled then.” Reid smiled in self satisfaction. “When she comes back out we’ll conduct a little… experiment.”
Then the three of them produced a hurried plan.
When you exited the restroom a few minutes later you were no better—if not worse—off than you had been before. Trying to get yourself off had not only failed, it had also made the problem almost painful. However, staying in the restroom any longer would not only be embarrassing, but suspicious as well.
You tried not to look at Emily when you sat back down, looking anywhere else would be safer. So you shifted, only to catch Spencer’s eye, who was studying you with a strange expression.
The last time you felt so scrutinized, you had been defending your thesis to earn your Master’s.
You decided it was probably safest to stare at your lap instead, fiddling with the hem of your pencil skirt. Anxiously rubbing circles in the cotton fabric between your fingers in an effort to soothe… something. Hoping, praying, that none of them knew it had been hiked around your waist only moments before… with your hand tucked between your thighs.
“Hey, are you alright?” Emily asked softly.
You could feel all three sets of eyes burning into you, you didn’t dare look up. The racing of your pulse was only getting faster.
“Mm hmm.” You nodded, continuing to play with the seam of your skirt and then trying to smooth a run in the delicate black nylon of your stocking. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Your voice was a little higher than normal, and you knew they hadn’t missed it.
“Hmm, I don’t know…” Emily responded, you could hear slight teasing in her voice. “You haven’t been acting fine. In fact, you seem a little stressed,” You could practically feel the grin on her face as she turned, “Hotch, doesn’t she seem stressed?”
“Incredibly stressed.” He agreed, and if you’re not mistaken, that was amusement in his tone.
You flush even brighter.
“You should relax a little.” He suggested in that stupidly hot low timbre of his. He didn’t even have the decency to toss you a glance. You often wondered if anything could tear the man away from his file. God, maybe one of these days you’d strip down and stand in front of him butt-ass naked, just to see if that would do it.
You couldn’t help the little snort of indignant laughter that escaped you, because Hotch’s tone was practically sinful—proving that, yeah, you could get wetter than you already were—and the fact that Hotch, of all people, told you to relax.
“You’re one to talk.” You retorted before you could think better of it. A slight feeling of panic washed over you at your brashness and you risked a glance up at him, his expression was frustratingly neutral.
His eyes, however, held a peculiar spark. A spark that still somehow gave you nothing.
Emily scooted a tad closer to you, turning her body to face yours and pulling her knees up under her on the bench seat.
“Turn around.” She commanded, twirling her finger around in a circle. You raised a brow at her questioningly, unsure of what she was about to do. She rolled her eyes. “Just trust me.”
You sighed—long sufferingly—and did as she asked, turning to face the other end of the jet. Your back now facing the others. You had little indication of what Emily intended to do with your back facing her, but you didn’t have the energy, or the nerve, to argue with her. The only hope in your mind was that she didn’t touch you and send you spiraling down another unfortunate slip-n-slide of arousal.
Then you felt the french pin slide out of your hair, which promptly unfurled and cascaded down your back. The pressure lifted off your scalp, leaving behind a dull ache.
Why had you twisted it so tight that morning?
Oh, that's right.
So you could at least appear put together when you’d realized that it would only be the four of you on the jet home, with no case briefings to distract you.
You could only dream of where you wanted this to go.
Hot mouths, desperate grabs, pleasured moans… snap out of it before you let one slip, holy shit.
You stiffened, very aware that this was a bad idea and tried to pull away.
“Relax…” She cooed, alarmingly close to your ear. You bristled a little further. “I only want to help…”
Her hands slid into your hair then, nails raking over your scalp gently before her fingertips began firmly massaging your temples. Your eyes closed involuntarily and most of the tension fled your body without warning. A little sigh escaped your lips and you felt your cheeks start to burn as you sunk into her hands.
“There, isn’t that better?” She murmured softly, a lilt to her voice you couldn’t quite place yet.
“It does feel nice…” You admitted nervously.
Her fingers trailed down from your temples to the back of your neck. Working into the muscles, tight with the start of a tension headache.
“I bet it does, your knots have knots.” She hummed sympathetically, if not a little disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t let it get this bad. It’s not healthy and it feels painful.”
“It’s been a long week…” You responded a little defensively. “I don’t think I can handle many more cases without JJ and Rossi around.”
The words are almost strangled, her hands on your neck both a blessing and a curse. Then they slide down to your shoulders. Kneading and digging into your traps in an earnest attempt to banish the tension there.
“Why is that?” She asked curiously, but there was something more… sensuous, about the way she said it. It sent a small shiver down your spine that, luckily, was easy enough to conceal. But you still wondered if she felt it.
You tensed up slightly again.
“Because, I am not a trained press liaison. JJ does a much better job, and we’re all better off with more of us in the field. You guys almost ran yourselves ragged trying to get everything done, and Hotch didn’t have Rossi to delegate administrative tasks to. Not to mention the locals were being a pain in the ass the whole time. It honestly felt like a bit of a clusterfuck.” You confessed, though that was only half the truth.
“You did a wonderful job with the press, JJ even texted me to tell me she was proud of you.” Hotch murmured from across the aisle, giving you a rare compliment. You glanced over at him in surprise, you hadn’t known JJ had sung your praises to Hotch as well. “But she told you that herself earlier. So why are you really so anxious?”
“It was just a lot for the four of us to take on, that’s all.” You insisted, but Emily’s hands started to work their way down your spine. She found a particularly sore spot and dug her thumb into it mercilessly, forcing a moan to escape your lips without permission.
“Sorry.” You murmured in absolute mortification.
“Don’t apologize.” Emily hushes you, a sly knowing smile on her face. “I like it when you're vocal.”
That startled you so thoroughly that you actually jumped a little. Any other day and it wouldn’t have phased you at all. That type of flirting was normal from Emily, she liked to make you blush. Tonight, however, you were woefully underprepared for her raunchiness. You laughed nervously, knowing that she would expect you to laugh on a normal day.
“Mmmm, I’m with Hotch.” Spencer hummed, finally entering the conversation. “I think something else has you all worked up. You’re missing Morgan, JJ, and Rossi because they’re a good buffer.”
You almost choked on air, he couldn’t possibly have worked that out so easily.
“I don’t know what you mean.” You lied.
He didn’t respond, and instead shared a glance with the others behind your back. Hotch gave a subtle nod to Emily, and she smiled in pure glee, before pulling your hair to one side and tracing her nose down the side of your neck. Her breath caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.
“You don’t? Are you sure?” She murmured, voice taking on a blatantly seductive tone.
You shot a worried glance in Hotch’s direction, only to find his eyes glazed over. Something heated hiding just beneath the surface.
“I- I’m sure.” You stuttered, every bit of that false confidence you’d been building ripped away in an instant. Leaving you a mess, you squeezed your thighs together once more trying to silence the throbbing ache between them, and his eyes flicked down to track the movement.
“You can’t lie to us. We’ve all been paying attention, sweetheart, and we see everything.” Hotch murmured, his voice thick and husky. “You know better.”
Sweetheart? Oh god. What on earth was happening?
You looked away from him quickly, hoping the truth wasn’t on blatant display in your eyes.
He chuckled softly.
Emily’s hand cupped your chin gently as she turned your head to face her, to face all of them.
“Emily?” You murmured in apprehension. She started to lean in closer to you, much closer. Too close for you to keep your wits about you. “What are you doing?”
She was searching your eyes intently for any hint of discomfort or fear.
She found none.
“This.” She whispered and then her lips met yours.
It was a gentle, seeking kiss. Her lips sure and firm against your own. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in it for a moment. The world narrowed down to her.
Her soft lips against yours. The way her mouth moved, seeking more from you. Her hand skimmed up your jaw from your chin and tangled in your hair as she deepened the kiss, pulling a soft whimper from your throat.
A whimper that was echoed by Spencer, just a few feet away.
His soft needy whine pulled you back down to earth, or rather, inside the jet. Where it suddenly dawned on you that Emily was shoving her tongue down your throat, in front of the team. In front of the team and your boss, who was-unfortunately–a stickler for rules.
Jerking away from Emily, you looked over at Hotch.
“Emily!” You gasped quietly, scrambling backward away from her on the seat. Despite your very, very willing participation. She followed you slowly. “What has gotten into you!?”
You were panting, your breaths shaky, your hands even shakier.
She smiled at you softly and threw a glance back over her shoulder at the others. Her gaze seemed to project, I told you so, as she crawled a little closer to you. You looked around at them then—panicked and breathless—the throbbing between your legs not at all helping you to make sense of the situation.
You focused on Hotch. Your eyes searched his frantically, knowing a reprimand would be swiftly coming your way. Or the inevitable glare of disappointment. Or worse, suspension.
Your jaw nearly hit the floor when he smirked at you instead.
“Don’t stop on my account.” He murmured, his voice thick and low, a slight rasp starting to come through. “It was just starting to get interesting.”
What. The. Fuck.
“W-w-what?” You stuttered, unsure if you had maybe misheard him, or imagined the whole fucking thing.
“You heard what I said.” He shrugged at you. “Don’t stop.”
Your mouth opened and closed, trying to form words when you were pretty sure your brain was on a hiatus.
“But-” You started to argue and he furrowed his brows at you.
This absolutely could not be happening. It was impossible. Any second now you were going to wake up and employ that new toy you had ordered specifically to deal with this issue.
“Are you saying you don’t like it when Prentiss kisses you?” He asked, his expression making it clear that he already knew the answer was no. You searched his eyes intently, looking for any sign that this would end poorly for you. What you saw instead was pure, unadulterated lust. The deep hazel of his eyes was almost consumed by his pupils and dark with hunger. He wanted you, he wanted to watch you make out with Emily, wanted to hear your moans and it was driving him crazy. So you shook your head no. Because you definitely did like the way Emily had kissed you and you wanted more. “Then close your mouth before I use it, and let Emily make you feel better.”
“Okay.” You murmured, barely louder than a whisper.
That was all Emily needed to hear.
Her mouth crashed into yours again and she pressed you back against the seat, slowly laying you down. Her body hovered over yours, the sweet scent of her perfume curling around you and numbing your senses. A moan ripped its way out of your mouth and she devoured it whole as her hand rested softly on your leg, just below the knee length hem of your skirt, and began to push it slowly up your thigh. The coolness of the air on your newly exposed skin made you shiver, a small shuddery breath accompanying it.
Emily grinned against your lips.
“Garters, huh? Can’t wait to see if they match your panties.” She murmured, Hotch and Spencer both groaned.
The idea of the two of them watching the two of you and enjoying it… was enough to make you squirm, the throbbing between your legs became agonizing again. Your thighs were rubbing together seeking any amount of friction…
Until Emily forced her knee between your legs, forcing them apart and not allowing the friction you so desperately needed. Her fingers still slowly dragged your skirt up the expanse of your thigh until she had it hiked up around your waist again.
“So pretty…” Hotch murmured, his voice thick and rough.
You turned your head to look at him, not at all phasing Emily who began kissing your neck instead, and found him sitting with his legs spread. His pants were undone and his long thick member was firmly gripped in his palm. If you weren’t so occupied with the fact Emily had found a spot on your neck that made your entire body tingle, your eyes might’ve bugged out of your head.
Emily’s lips managed to coax another soft moan from you and your attention was temporarily diverted. Your head rolled back a little to give her space to work, which made her chuckle. A sound that you were sure was pure sin.
You heard another sound, a soft moan from across the aisle, and you realized that Hotch…
Wasn’t the only one.
Spencer had taken his out as well, watching you intently while stroking himself slowly. A loud and surprising moan erupted from your lips, pulling soft groans from the three of them in response.
You didn’t know what you wanted more.
Emily’s mouth… or either of the cocks now standing at attention in front of you.
However, the decision would not be left up to you.
Emily’s hand was now popping open the buttons of your blouse one by one. Working her way down your stomach, her mouth following her hands slowly. She was taking her sweet time, kissing, sucking and biting gently. Sucking your skin into her mouth and rolling it softly between her teeth, probably leaving some little red marks. Her head dipping lower and lower toward the apex of your thighs.
More little moans escaped through your heavy, panting breaths.
Her mouth finally hovered over the place you wanted it most. Emily’s breath was hot as she slowly closed her lips around your clit over your black lacy panties. A strangled cry breaking free as you threw your head back, your mouth wide and your eyes closing tightly.
Hotch knelt down behind you, pushing his shoulder under your head, forcing you to look down at Emily between your legs. His hand brushed your hair out of your face gently.
“Do you like having Emily’s mouth between your legs, sweetheart?” He hummed against your temple, placing a tender kiss there.
You opened your mouth to answer, but Emily had other plans, sucking harder on your clit that she had been previously, while flicking at it with her tongue. Your panties weren’t even off yet and she had you nearly in tears from the pleasure.
A strangled, half moan, half gasp left your mouth in the place of words.
Hotch chuckled softly and his breath moved your hair, tickling your forehead.
“Where did that clever mouth go? It was working so well earlier.” His fingers curled around your open blouse, and he gently pulled it off your shoulders. He guided you back onto his shoulder again as he placed kisses to the side of your neck, and then tossed the shirt to Spencer, who brought it to his nose and took a deep breath of your perfume.
“She smells so good…” Spencer mumbled softly, still palming his own erection and watching Emily's head move between your legs.
“You have no idea how good she smells.” Emily groaned, biting the inside of your thigh hard enough to sting and then started to suck a hickey over the indentations her teeth had made.
“Why don’t you take her panties off and tell us how she tastes.” Hotch suggested with a smirk, you groaned softly in agreement. Your hips bucked slightly and that knot in your core squeezed tight.
“You like that idea, huh?” He teased gently, you could feel his grin against your temple. Then he threaded his hand through your hair and pulled your head back to mouth hot kisses down the line of your throat.
“I definitely do.” Emily smirked, then hooked her thumbs into the waist of your panties and slowly began to drag them down your hips. Her fingers deftly unclipping your garters from your stockings, then continuing to drag your panties down your legs until she had freed them completely and tossed them to the floor. Her warm breath fanned out across your skin and yours hitched at the sensation. Much to Emily’s delight, goosebumps pebbled your thighs and she ran her fingertips over them slowly. Which only made them worse.
“It’s not braille.” You hissed at her impatiently. “It’s not going to magically spell anything out.”
“That fucking mouth…” She mumbled as she finally closed the distance between her mouth and your pussy. Your hips bucked at the heat of her tongue as she licked a path from your entrance to your clit.
A strangled cry flew from your lips. Emily’s laugh puffed against you, and the only thing keeping you aware of anything at all was the combination of Spencer and Hotch’s laughs filling the space as well.
“Not such a smartass with a tongue on your pussy are you?” Hotch’s gravelly voice reverberated in your ear before he took your ear lobe in his mouth and bit it gently. “Be good for us and we’ll see just how many times we can make you come.”
You only had the mental capacity to nod… because Emily had just sucked your clit into her mouth and was rolling her tongue over it. That—combined with the gentle suction she so mindfully applied—meant whimpering, nodding, and squirming was all you could manage to do.
The warmth of her mouth was obscene, the slick firmness of her tongue enough to make you see stars. She gave a particularly rough pull of suction against your clit and you couldn’t contain yourself.
“Fuck!” You gasped, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.
Hotch wasn’t having that though.
Especially since Spencer was barely containing his own whimpers and moans from the chair across the aisle, where he was watching the entire scene with rapt attention, soaking in every detail. Hotch took your chin in his hand and forced you to look at Spencer.
“Look at him.” He commanded, growling in your ear. “Look at what you’re doing to him, Sweetheart, and you haven’t even touched him.”
You made eye contact with Spencer then, his eyes full of longing, sweat glistening on his brow and his hand struggling to maintain a steady rhythm on his cock. His chest was heaving from the effort it was taking him to remain in control, you could clearly hear his ragged breaths from your place across the cabin. His cheeks were flushed–a ruddy pink–and his hair was disheveled from his fingers, which he kept dragging through it.
“Spence…” You murmured softly, for no other reason than you felt the need to say his name. To acknowledge him and make sure he knew you saw him. To be certain he knew that you appreciated what you saw.
His cock was so hard it was closer to pink than his natural skin tone and you were anxious to do something about it. It looked almost painful.
You felt like you could hear everything he was thinking as he broke eye contact to study the length of your body, then brought his gorgeous amber doe eyes back yours.
“Tell her how beautiful she looks Reid, talk to her, she loves it when you ramble.” Hotch urged him gently. “Don’t you, pretty girl?”
You really did and the pleading look in your eyes was all he needed to see to know that was true.
“You should see yourself right now, Angel…” Spencer murmured softly, hesitantly at first but the heat in your eyes as you gazed back at him was undeniable, and the boost in confidence he needed. “You’re stunning, absolutely ethereal, bewitching even. From the luster of your hair to the delicate curves of your legs, you look like a dream. Your perfect breasts look so firm and smooth, I want to cup my hands around them just to see how it would feel.”
You moaned softly at that and Hotch hummed his agreement and approval of Spencer’s pretty words. He had to admit he was impressed, Reid seemed to have a way of waxing poetic. He watched with glee as your body reacted, both to Emily’s ministrations and Spencer’s words as he continued to speak. “Darling you are divine, the very smell of your perfume is intoxicating. Your lips are tantalizing and I can only imagine the feel of them on mine would be soft as silk.”
You hung on every word, his voice mesmerizing you as he spoke. You had no idea that Spencer had such a way with words. His poetic phrasing had your heart racing and your stomach fluttering.
Emily’s warm tongue slowly drifted away from your clit, trailing down your pussy to the wetness of your entrance… and she began to leisurely fuck you with it. You moaned so loudly it startled you and bit your bottom lip to stifle the noise.
“They can’t hear you in the cockpit, Angel. The door is too thick and the engines are too loud. Not to mention, they’re wearing headsets to communicate with air traffic control.” Spencer explained quietly.
Hotch’s hands started to travel down your body. One slipping into the black see-through mesh and lace of your bra, the other sliding slowly down your stomach and finding your—recently abandoned—clit. He circled it with his fingertips gently. His other hand firmly massaging your breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You heard him, Sweetheart. No one can hear you but the three of us, and like Emily said: we like it when you’re vocal.”
You let out a soft whimper and he hummed in approval.
Emily drew most of your attention back to herself as she replaced her tongue with two fingers, stretching you wider and filling you more satisfyingly than before. She stayed between your legs though, sucking and biting at your thighs as she made her fingers match the pace of Spencer’s hand.
You knew that’s what she was doing because you were still watching him from the corner of your eye, and for every downward stroke of his hand, she thrust her fingers inside you at the same moment. Hotch caught on to what she was doing, and he also began to match that rhythm and pace, kissing and nipping at the column of your throat as he played with your clit and nipples.
“Let go babe, we’ve got you. I can feel how close you are, you’ve got my fingers in a vise.” Emily murmured against the skin of your thigh, pressing a kiss to the place she had just bitten. Hotch hummed against your neck.
“Are you gonna come on Emily’s fingers, Sweetheart?” He murmured, before biting your exposed throat gently and laving at it with his tongue.
All you could do was moan in response.
Emily’s mouth found its way back to your clit, nipping Hotch’s finger playfully to make him move it. He looked down at her with a smirk and flicked her forehead teasingly before bringing his hand up to your other breast.
She rolled her eyes at him and flattened her tongue against your clit, then circled it and finally began sucking on it again as she continued to fuck you with her fingers. Hotch was rolling both your nipples between his fingers and returned his mouth to your throat, you were almost certain he was leaving marks there.
He was and it was completely intentional, it was the weekend, and he intended to give you all two extra days off at the start of next week. They would fade.
Emily was getting worked up herself and the sound of your little pants and moans were driving her to distraction. When you let out a particularly loud whimper, she hummed in satisfaction and the vibration made you throw your head back farther and moan so lewdly that Hotch picked his head up to look at your face.
Your eyes were squeezed shut, your supple lips were shaped in a wide ‘O’ and he couldn’t help himself anymore, your mouth was just begging to be filled.
You were vaguely aware that he had lifted your head off his shoulder and moved to stand, but you were too focused on Emily—and her mouth— to wonder why.
Then something warm bumped your chin.
You opened your eyes and found Hotch standing in front of you, his cock bouncing just out of reach of your mouth. You looked up and met his eyes, questioningly.
He smirked down at you, reaching out and cupping your jaw in his hand. His calloused thumb rubbed a small circle on the smooth skin of your cheek.
“I told you to close your mouth or I’d use it.” He murmured, voice low and rough. His thumb stretched to pull your lip down just a little and let it snap back into place, then brushed the corner of your mouth softly.
You didn’t respond, you just opened your mouth a little wider and offered it to him.
“Fuck.” He murmured, barely louder than a whisper.
Em chuckled quietly and the vibrations ran straight up your spine then down your legs, making your toes curl. You threaded your hands through Emily’s hair, needing something, anything, to hold on to.
“A little wider sweetheart.” Hotch prompted you.
You obeyed immediately, opening your mouth as wide as you could and maintaining eye contact with him. You knew he would like the attention and he did, rewarding you with his thick cock as he slid it slowly into the warmth of your mouth.
He tasted clean, but salty, and the precum that was already leaking from him was sweet as well with a slightly bitter—but delicious—aftertaste. You groaned as you closed your lips around him.
“How does her mouth feel?” Spencer’s voice was strained, he still hadn’t moved to touch you, content to observe.
To learn.
“She’s perfect.” Hotch groaned, his hand buried in your hair fisting it firmly but not roughly. He began to use it to pull you slowly up and down the length of his cock. “Fuck sweetheart, you feel amazing.” He murmured looking down at you affectionately, “You’re so warm, and you’re being so pliant for me.”
You kept eye contact with him, trying to focus on him… While also being on the verge of coming from Emily’s tongue on your clit, her finger pumping in and out of your pussy. All three of them were still matching pace with each other, and it was intoxicating. In and out and in and out, all at the same time.
Realizing how close you were, just needing a little push to fall over the edge, Emily reached up and started rolling your nipple beneath the lace of your bra. Then she slightly changed the angle of her fingers, curling them slightly to brush against your g-spot with every thrust.
You uttered a very strangled cry, the sound muffled around Hotch’s thickness. “Whatever you just did, she liked it. Didn’t you, pretty girl?”
You moaned in response and his hand tightened in your hair, a low hiss sliding through his clenched teeth.
Emily chuckled and kept her pace steady, but the vibration of her laughter around your clit as she sucked on it was all it took to send you spiraling into blissful oblivion.
Your body felt fuzzy and warm and your pussy was pulsing uncontrollably around Emily’s fingers. Your legs were shaking and you finally broke eye contact with Hotch as you scrunched your face up in pleasure. Eyes closed tightly as she fucked you through it, then licked your pussy from bottom to top as though savoring the taste of your orgasm.
Your body slowly relaxed again and when Emily pressed one more kiss to your clit then stood from the couch, you opened your eyes again to look up at her. Panting heavily as you realized now, that Hotch had pulled out of your mouth so that you could breathe through your orgasm.
Emily smirked down at you and then held her two glistening fingers up to the light for Hotch to inspect. He looked at them with a feral sort of hunger in his eyes.
“Do you want to taste her?” Emily asked him, a sly grin on her face as she offered her middle finger up to him. “She’s delicious…” She purred, and Hotch glanced down at you, recovering from your orgasm with a look of pure adoration for Emily in your eyes.
Then he turned his head toward her and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, before drawing her finger into his mouth… and sucking it clean.
You groaned and let your head rest against his hand that was still tangled in your hair.
“Fuck, she tastes like heaven. Reid, you wanna taste?” Hotch asked the younger man, then turned his attention back to you, tugging lightly on your hair. “Get down on your knees for me, Sweetheart.” He coaxed gently.
You obeyed him, getting down on your knees in front of him, but watched Reid and Prentiss as you did it. She was offering her ring finger to him and he was licking it clean and groaning, as he stroked himself a little harder.
Spencer… Spencer who didn’t shake hands because of germs… was licking Emily’s finger, just so he could taste you.
Fuck…
You whimpered softly and Hotch chuckled quietly, using your hair to tilt your face up to look at him .
“You can have him as soon as I’m done with your pretty little mouth.” He murmured teasingly. “Open up sweetheart.” You let your mouth fall open in what you hoped was a sexy expression. “So pretty…” He whispered for the second time that night as he slid his cock back into your mouth.
He used your hair—again, to your delight—to guide your mouth up and down his considerable length. He was taking it slow, going easy on you… you didn’t like that, not one bit. So you surged forward on his cock, taking as much of him as you could without gagging and he let out a sharp, gasping, string of barely intelligible obscenities.
You tried to pull back a bit to do it again… but he held you firmly in place.
“You want me to fuck your mouth, pretty girl? Blink once for no, twice for yes.” You moaned, looking up at him from under your lashes and pleading with your eyes, you blinked twice.
That is exactly what you wanted.
He chuckled quietly and then gave you a soft look.
“Have you ever had your mouth fucked before? Once for no, twice for yes.” You blinked once—you hadn’t and you were nervous because with his cock so deep in your throat you couldn’t breathe, you were also struggling not to gag—but you wanted him to do it so badly in that moment.
“Then listen closely, so I don’t hurt you.” He warned you, then caressed your neck tenderly. “Relax your throat, soften the back of your mouth.” He instructed gently. “Go ahead, I’ll tell you when you’ve done it right.” You tried to do as he asked, relaxing all the muscles in your throat and opening the back of your mouth. “Good girl, that’s perfect.”
Your head was starting to feel fuzzy from lack of oxygen, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you so you didn’t panic.
“Keep your jaw loose and let me move you, don’t fight against me or try to help. It’ll make you sore if you do. You can’t breathe right now can you?” He asked, seemingly knowing the answer was no, but you blinked once anyway. “You are going to have to focus on your breathing. Time it so that you take a full inhale through your nose as I’m pulling out.”
He pulled you back off his cock just enough so that your airway was clear, you immediately sucked in a full breath and your head cleared.
“Good girl…” He soothed, stroking your cheek with the back of his finger. “When you take a breath, hold it. Then release it when I pull out the next time. Do you understand?”
You blinked twice.
“Perfect.”
He started so slowly—barely moving at all—letting you get the hang of how to breathe and how to keep everything loose and relaxed.
“That’s perfect, sweetheart, just like that.” He praised you after a minute, and then he slowly increased his pace, going a little deeper as well.
“Look how well she takes it…” Emily purred, kneeling down next to you and brushing a stray hair from your face. “Such a good girl…” She cooed, running her hand down your bare back.
Her words only served to fuel your ego and you preened under her praise.
“She’s a natural…” Hotch agreed and brought his free hand up to your cheek. “Think you can take it a little faster, pretty girl?” He asked, stroking your skin with his thumb.
You blinked twice.
“Good girl, remember to breathe in on every other one.” He both praised and reminded you softly as he picked up the pace. His cock was touching the back of your throat now with every inward thrust. His hand in your hair supported your head and held you completely still. You were like putty in his hands, and Hotch was reveling in it. He loved the way you completely surrendered and trusted him with something you’d never experienced before. “Fuck, Sweetheart… you’re taking me so well. I’m so proud of you.”
The tone of voice he was using—low and rough—was making your pussy throb all over again.
You moaned and he lost a little bit of his restraint, fucking into your mouth a little harder than he had been before, but not hard enough to hurt you. It was making your eyes water, however, and you had tears running down your cheeks. Hotch was enthralled by them, by the mascara tracks they were leaving and the way they changed the shade of your eyes slightly. “Such a good fucking girl, letting me fuck your mouth like this… you’re perfection, sweetheart.”
“Look at what you’re doing to him…” Emily whispered softly in your ear. “He’s barely holding on, you’re driving him crazy with those pouty, fuckable lips and pleading puppy dog eyes… you should see yourself the way he’s seeing you right now… you’re fucking beautiful baby.”
You moaned and it would’ve been loud and obscene if not for the cock in your mouth.
Hotch’s hips stuttered and he cursed, you knew that meant he was close.
“I’m about to come, pretty girl…” He gritted out, his hand in your hair tightening. “Can you take it?”
You moaned and blinked twice at him, then held eye contact. You didn’t know how you knew that would send him over the edge, you just did.
Then he was spilling himself down your throat, and you swallowed every fucking drop, then sucked him clean. He pulled his cock from your mouth and tucked it back into his briefs, then squatted down in front of you. The thumb of his free hand wiped a drop of liquid off your chin and he brought it to your lips, the look in his eyes almost challenging.
You licked his thumb from base to tip, then closed your lips around it and lightly sucked on it. He smiled at you then, pulling his thumb from your mouth and sliding that hand back to join his other in your hair. Hotch pulled you toward him gently as he started to lean in and murmured, “Such a good girl…”
The kiss he gave you was hot, sloppy and branding. He could taste himself in your mouth as his tongue invaded it and he was obsessed with the mingling of his flavor and yours. You moaned into his mouth and tried to deepen the kiss again, but he heard Spencer’s ragged breathing behind him and pulled back.
“You wanna ride Reid’s cock, Sweetheart?” He murmured loudly enough that Spencer also heard him and you both whimpered pathetically at the suggestion.
Hotch and Emily both chuckled, and then Hotch put his hands on your waist to help you stand and guided you over to the chair Spencer was in. Your legs were shaking and you were as clumsy as a baby giraffe stumbling over to him.
Spencer was looking up at you with those big amber puppy dog eyes and you felt even weaker in the knees, luckily you didn’t have to stand for much longer. Hotch steadied you on your wobbly legs until you climbed up onto Spencer’s lap, straddling him.
He was hesitant to touch you, his observation had started this whole thing and when he had suggested an experiment… he hadn’t expected it to end in sex…especially not group sex. When Hotch and Emily had started talking about consent and ground rules—lines that couldn’t be crossed— he had been sent reeling.
When he had asked if they’d noticed you acting strangely it had been out of concern for your wellbeing. When he had suggested they test the hypothesis he had merely meant to prove whether you were into men, women, or both.
He had wanted a scientific experiment, not sexual experimentation.
Not that he was complaining…
He, Emily, and Hotch were all three bisexual. Hotch didn’t really broadcast that fact, especially not in front of the others. Even though Spencer was pretty sure the only two on the team who weren’t queer were Rossi and Derek, and he wasn’t even sure about Rossi sometimes. So it wasn’t a big deal if you were or were not bisexual. He had only been curious.
Curiosity killed the cat or something like that… yet this time he had ended up with your bare pussy hovering over his cock, and he was not at all upset with this outcome. Just incredibly shocked. You were so beautiful, looking down at him with your tear stained cheeks and swollen lips. He still hesitated, however, because he wasn’t sure whether or not you really wanted him, or if he was being included simply because he was here.
You could see that hesitation, that self doubt in his eyes… you hated it.
So you leaned in and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss at first… reassuring and gentle. You were giving him plenty of time to work his nerve up. When he didn’t pull away—and even started to reciprocate—you deepened the kiss and teased at his lips with your tongue.
Requesting entry.
He parted his lips for you immediately, you smiled against him before you let your tongue caress his sinfully. His body was no longer rigid, but he was still tense. You moved to kissing his neck and nipping at his skin.
“Relax Spence…” You murmured sensually, running your hands through his hair and brushing it back from his forehead. “Let me lead, I’ll take care of you.” Pulling back and checking in to make sure, before you went too far, you looked him in the eyes, searching them intently. “Is this okay with you, Handsome?”
He nodded, biting his bottom lip in a way that made you want to bite it too.
“Yes.” He murmured, still hesitating… then whispered, “I just– I’ve only done this twice… I don’t know what to do in this position…”
Oh…
“That’s okay, I didn’t know what to do a minute ago and Hotch talked me right through it… We can do that for you, if you want?” You offered him gently. Your eyes were soft and kind, but let him see just how badly you wanted him. “Besides… I’ll enjoy being able to teach you something for once.”
He laughed softly, and some of the tension melted away from him.
“Okay.” He agreed. “Tell me what to do.”
Then in a burst of confidence, he reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear.
You hummed in approval.
“Touching me would be a great start.” You teased gently, not at all trying to bruise his ego.
“That’s true…” He joked quietly and his hands settled on your waist, then started to slowly trail up your sides. Lightly dancing over your ribs. “What if… I did this as well?”
And then his hands were reaching around to the clasp of your bra and deftly unhooking it. Which shocked you given his inexperience… you’d bet anything that he’d practiced somehow so he wouldn’t fumble when it mattered.
You reached down between your bodies and wrapped your hand around him. He sucked in a sharp gasp, jumping at the contact and your soft chuckle was echoed by two more behind you.
“Then I would do this and tell you that you have great instincts if you’ll just listen to them.” You started to slowly pump your hand up and down his length and he groaned. It was an almost tortured sound, as though you were both killing him and pleasuring him at the same time.
He slid the straps of your bra down your arms and you briefly let go of him to toss it to the floor. You sat up a little straighter as he took in the sight of you, sitting astride him in nothing but a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.
“You’re so beautiful, Angel…” he murmured, then leaned forward and pressed kisses to your breasts.
You lost patience then.
“Are you ready?” You asked him as you lined him up with your entrance, barely putting the tip in.
Your hands were trembling and your breathing was rapid and shaky.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one who asks you that?” He responded, but his voice cracked and you knew he was putting on bravado. He was every bit as desperate as you, his breaths ragged and harsh.
“Spence…” You whimpered, needing his permission to sink down on it. “Please.”
He didn’t respond, instead he gripped your hips firmly and tugged you down onto his cock until you were fully seated on it. You swore you could feel every ridge, every vein, and every little twitch it made.
“Fuck!” You moaned, loudly, earning snickers and snorts from the two voyeurs sitting on the couch behind you.
“Shit, sorry! Did I hurt you?” He panicked.
“That was definitely not a sound of pain, Reid.” Hotch murmured.
Spencer looked at you closely anyway, unsure if you were alright.
“You told me to follow my instincts so I–”
You kissed him, to shut him up and stop his doubts from running away with his head. Then you started to ride him slowly. He groaned against your lips and you smiled. The feel of him—filling you up—was exquisite.
“Your instincts are perfect Spencer…” You praised him, letting your hands drift back into his hair. “That was hot.”
His beautiful eyes gazing up at you as you rode him made you feel a little dizzy, he was so fucking pretty. He was gripping your hips tightly and every time you brought them back down he whimpered. The sounds he was making were driving you insane.
“Tilt your hips forward a bit more, sweetheart.” Hotch instructed you, his voice low and raspy. “It’ll help you take him deeper, and feel twice as good for him.”
He was right, and you did know that already, but it was so fucking sexy when he started giving orders.
“And for her.” Prentiss added, you could hear the salacious smile in her tone.
“Like this?” You asked in a faux bashful tone, as if you didn’t know how to do it. Then you did it perfectly, so that you and Reid both groaned, and your ass popped back enticingly for Hotch and Emily.
They both groaned softly and you smiled, winking at Spencer. Letting him in on your antics. He smiled back at you, as amused as he could be—given the circumstances.
“What about this? Do you think this would make him feel good?” You asked, rolling and circling your hips seductively as you rode him.
Spencer hissed out a breath, his eyes rolling back briefly.
“I can confirm that it does in fact feel amazing.” He groaned, you giggled and threw a flirty glance back over your shoulder at the others. Then leaned forward and sucked Spencer’s bottom lip into your mouth, biting it. He slid his hands down to your thighs squeezing tightly, then over your thighs where he looped his fingers into your stockings and peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Then traced his fingers back up your calves and thighs, back to your hips and you noticed he was avoiding your ass… So did Prentiss.
You felt the heat of her body behind you before you heard her voice, and pulled back to look up at her.
“Don’t be shy Reid…” She purred, her hands landing on his, dragging them back till they rested fully on your ass. “Get a good handful… or two.” She made him squeeze you firmly. You moaned and Emily chuckled. “See… She loves that, don’t you babe?”
“Yes!” You moaned wantonly, and caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hotch had moved closer and was perched on the edge of the table next to the seat you and Spencer were in. He was watching with a ravenous hunger in his eyes.
“Put her nipple in your mouth, Reid.” He said after a moment. “Suck on it while circling your tongue around it.”
Emily hummed her approval, they were giving Spencer a veritable textbook for How To Make You Come 101. Spencer listened, of course. He’d just watched Hotch and Emily tag team you into an orgasm, their words were as good as gold.
When his lips closed around your nipple you hissed and whimpered a little, picking up your pace as you bounced up and down on his cock. Hotch chuckled in lust filled amusement, reaching over and stroking your ribs with the back of his hand.
“She makes such beautiful little sounds.” He mused to Emily, who nodded and then grabbed a handful of your hair.
She used it to tip your head back then kissed you thoroughly, her tongue caressing yours and you could still taste your pussy on her lips. You moaned and ground yourself down against Spencer, his cock reaching all the way to your cervix, you felt as though you could feel him in your stomach.
Hotch’s fingers were tracing your ribs, or maybe that was Spencer? No, his hands were still on your ass so it had to be Hotch or Emily. Someone was trailing a hand down your stomach to where your body joined with Spencer’s, this hand was larger and callused while the other was soft and smaller. So Emily was tracing your ribs, while Hotch…
Hotch was on a collision course with your clit. You knew when he made impact, you’d see stars.
Spencer switched nipples, still kneading your ass with firmness and your muscles were starting to ache from pulling yourself up and down his cock at this pace. Emily was still lighting you up with her kiss, her fingers traveling down the line of your rib to the breast that Reid had started with. Hotch’s fingers were getting closer and closer, but they were moving so slowly you knew he was trying to drive you wild with anticipation.
It was working.
Your chest was heaving, you were trembling and your legs were aching deliciously from exertion. Spencer’s cock was hitting you perfectly every time you sank down on it. All the sensations combined were almost too much for your sanity. You were so close, again.
“Look at you, falling apart at the seams… you’re so close aren’t you sweetheart?” Hotch murmured, his voice a lot closer than it had last been. What was he, a mind reader? His nose skimmed your neck up to your ear, which he then bit gently. You moaned into Emily’s mouth, a pitiful little whimper, and you felt her smile softly against your lips. “Does Reid’s cock feel so good? Filling you up like that. Stretching you out. I wonder, can you still taste yourself on Emily’s lips? Do you know how good you taste, pretty girl?”
Fuck, was he trying to kill you?
It was like his voice had gained a solid form and had wrapped itself around your throat, cutting off your oxygen and leaving you completely breathless. Your senses were overwhelmed, in a state of near euphoria, and you knew that once Hotch’s fingers reached their destination—and they would in the next three seconds—that the barest graze of them was going to make you explode.
He stopped just short of his target. You whined against Emily’s lips and he laughed at you softly.
“I think she ought to earn this one… What do you think, Prentiss? Should we make her beg?” Hotch asked the other woman, he didn’t ask Reid because the poor man was barely holding it together and all of his focus was split between the nipple he was currently stimulating and not coming inside you without consent.
Emily—reluctantly—pulled her tongue out of your mouth and smirked down at you.
“Hmm, she was being a little bit of a tease a minute ago wasn’t she?” She made a show of looking very contemplative, all the while she continued toying with your other nipple. “Reid?”
She brought Spencer into the conversation—or she tried to.
“Busy.” He murmured against the skin of your breast as he continued his work there, he would not be distracted. You glanced down and saw that he had started marking your skin with hickeys.
You moaned at the sight and let your head fall back.
“You want me to beg, and I’ll beg. Just please don’t make him stop.” Your voice was heavy, rough and breathless. You were so incredibly close, your body was starting to shake, and you knew you’d come, whether they kept touching you or not.
They knew it too, but they also knew they could make it so much stronger… if you were good for them.
“It feels so good, huh, sweetheart?” Hotch asked, his tone slightly condescending. “If you ask nicely, we’ll give you what you need…”
His hand was still stalled on your lower abdomen less than an inch away from your clit. Emily was just barely teasing your nipple and while it seemed like Spencer was ignoring them, you knew he was giving you just enough to keep you on the edge. Sneaky.
However, you expected no less from him. He was a fast and visual learner, he had been watching closely when Hotch and Emily had been playing you like a fiddle. He could have had you screaming all on his own if he’d wanted to—you had no doubt about that— he’d just needed the confidence to get started.
Hotch and Emily had helped with that.
“I’ll be such a good girl if you let me come, Hotch, please…” You gave him the sexiest pout you could muster. His eyes seemed to darken—his hazel irises almost completely drowned out by his pupils—as they zoned in on your lips. “I’ll mind my manners and be so polite, I promise. Pretty please, make me come.”
Hotch was listening, and he had intended to make you beg more than this, but your lipstick smudged lips were just so alluring that he couldn’t focus on anything else at that moment. Remembering what they’d looked like wrapped around his cock several minutes earlier, he found his will rapidly dissolving, and all he really wanted was to watch the way those lips formed a perfect O when you came.
“I knew you’d sound so sweet begging…” He murmured, and his hand started to move again “Let us hear you, pretty girl. Loud and clear.”
“Yes sir.” You murmured confidently.
Emily chuckled and started sucking on your neck, you moaned… Then Hotch’s fingers—finally—found your clit.
You screamed.
Your vision went fuzzy and then white. Your head was buzzing and your body was nearly numb. You went limp and Spencer took over, fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. Emily’s hand had begun rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“Good girl…” She cooed. “You look so pretty when you come.”
“Yes she does.” Hotch murmured, reaching over to where your head was resting on Spencer’s shoulder and brushing your hair away from your face. “So fucking pretty.”
You whimpered softly at the touch and he smiled tenderly at you. Your chest was heaving with hard-fought, ragged breaths. You were shaking, but your vision was slowly returning to normal.
“Are you alright?” Spencer whispered gently in your ear. His hands on your waist now, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fucking fantastic, Spence…” You murmured in return, shifting your weight slightly to sit up and kiss him. He squeezed your hips tightly.
“Please don’t move.” He hissed, pleadingly. “I can’t… I’m gonna… If you don’t get off it, I’m going to come inside you. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
You froze, your lips just a centimeter from his.
“It’s okay… Don’t panic… They make pills for that, and I intend to take one anyway… I’m a little stuck at the moment though, my knees are too weak to get up.” You met his eyes, the panic in them was astounding. “Hotch, could you–”
The man's arms were already coming around your waist and he lifted you off of Spencer effortlessly, as the younger man bit his lip and hissed as if pained. Setting you on your feet softly, Hotch held you to his chest to keep you from falling to the floor.
“Didn’t you say you’d mind your manners and be polite if we let you come?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.
You looked up at him, searching his eyes for a hint, a clue, anything to tell you what he was up to.
“Mm hmm…” You hummed in response, nodding at him.
“You made a mess Sweetheart…” He told you quietly, then took your chin in his hand and turned your face down to look at Spencer… Who was, in fact, a whimpering mess. “Clean it up.”
You licked your lips and smiled salaciously.
“Yes sir.” You murmured softly and got down on your knees at Spencer’s feet.
Reaching out and taking Spencer’s cock in your hand, you gave him a firm stroke. He moaned and his head fell back against the seat. So he didn’t see you coming when you lowered your head and took him in your mouth, all the way to the base.
“Oh fuck!” He yelped, you hummed in approval at his reaction, then you pulled back so that a manageable length was in your mouth. You put one hand on his thigh to brace yourself and create a little leverage, the other you wrapped around the rest of him. Slowly, you started to bob up and down, moving your hand in time with your head. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Spencer’s hands gripping the arms of the chair, his knuckles were white. That only spurred you on.
The taste of yourself on his cock was tantalizing, the tang of you mingling with the musk of him was something you never thought you would experience. This whole situation was something you never thought you’d experience. You’d considered it of course—more times than you could count— but it was only a fantasy, a daydream. Never had you once thought it might actually happen.
“She’s doing so well… don’t you think Hotch?” Emily’s voice purred on your right.
“Hmmm, I don’t know… she’s capable of more…” He hummed in response from the left, and a hand—that based on the size could only be his—palmed the curve of your ass. He gave it a squeeze and a playful smack and you moaned around Spence's cock. Spencer twitched in response.
“You think she can take more?” Emily asked him, her tone was nothing short of sinful and it made you shiver. Hotch’s following chuckle, however, went straight to your pussy, making you squeeze your thighs together. Suddenly, you were completely desperate again..
“I know she can.” He answered, with a confidence that made your toes curl. His voice tended to do that to you, but when he put that cocky, self assured, arrogant rasp behind it… Goddamn. It was the voice he used when he knew he had the upper hand, when he had an unsub completely caught up in a lie, a trap of their own making. The voice that made your knees weak and your thighs tighten. It went straight to your pussy every time, making it clench around nothing. “Why don’t you help her along?”
“I’d love to.” She purred.
Then Emily’s hand was in your hair, resting firmly on the back of your head.
“You heard him, Gorgeous…” she lilted provocatively as her hand grew heavier on your head, slowly pushing you down the lengthy expanse of Spencer’s cock, until your nose was touching the neat patch of hair at his base.
“Fuck, Angel…” Spencer groaned, his voice husky and strained. “I’m so close…”
You gave him a muffled little hum of approval and that was all he needed to fall over the edge. Spilling down your throat as he moaned loudly, his hands joined Emily’s in your hair and he held you there firmly until he was finished.
You swallowed as much as you could and then—when they released your head—you sucked and licked him clean.
“Thank you, Angel. That was… incredible.” Spencer murmured, reaching up to stroke your cheek tenderly with the back of his forefinger. You leaned into the touch and then gave him a sensuous smile as you climbed back up into his lap. You brought your lips to his before he could say another word and kissed him deeply, letting him taste the mixture of all the flavors that had accumulated on your tongue. It was by far the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. He moaned into your mouth and you pulled back to smile at him.
“You are very. Very. Welcome.” You purred, punctuating each very with a gentle kiss and biting his bottom lip after welcome. “It was my pleasure…”
Hotch and Emily chuckled softly at your antics and you noticed that Em sounded a bit shaky. Then you realized she was the only one who hadn’t come at least once… you’d have to remedy that.
Hotch—astute as ever—immediately noticed when your eyes locked onto Emily’s form. He chuckled again, looking between you and her, then stood and helped her to her feet as well, guiding her to the space between you and the couch you both had started this whole thing on.
“You want Prentiss again, sweetheart?” He asked, his smirk letting you know he knew exactly what was on your mind. You simply nodded your head, never taking your eyes off her. “Hmm… What do you think, Emily? Has she earned the right to touch you yet?”
She smirked down at you, trying to maintain her slightly condescending attitude… but you could read her like a book, and she was so turned on she was struggling to breathe regularly. You smirked back at her and she raised a brow at you.
“I don’t know, she seems a little too cocky about it to me.” She answered him, only prolonging her own discomfort.
“Am I?” You murmured, giving her a teasing smile. “Take it from the boys, Em. I could rock your world…”
She laughed softly.
“I bet you could, but I wanna hear you beg for it…” She purred, grinning at you. “Tell me how much you want it.”
You started to get up and reach for her, to show her how much you wanted her… but she stepped back, bumping into Hotch’s chest. He steadied her without hesitation, his hands stayed planted firmly on her hips and to your surprise, Spencer gripped your own hips. Tugging you back down into his lap so that you now faced the others, he held you in place.
“She said tell her, Angel…” Spencer murmured, his breath tickling your ear. You were shocked at his sudden burst of dominance. Your eyes widened slightly and your lips parted in surprise.
Hotch chuckled and you studied the three of them carefully… they were all smiling at you, their eyes holding the same teasing light. It was as though they were waiting for you to notice something. You just didn’t know what.
“You don’t get to touch her yet, sweetheart… not until she gives you permission.” Hotch murmured teasingly. “You can look though…”
Then his hands slid around her waist to the front of her pants, and he began to unbuckle her belt.
“Oh fuck…” you whispered on a breathy sigh. This would be the death of you, you were sure. Your head tipped back as you looked to the ceiling, as though praying for patience or guidance—or perhaps salvation because you felt certifiably damned—but Spencer had other ideas.
“Don’t look away.” He instructed you, his voice low and commanding as he gripped your chin and made you look back at them. You’d never heard him speak with so much authority, and yet somehow it was still so soft that it was barely audible. “They’re doing this for you…”
Hotch continued his mission to rid Emily of her slacks by unbuttoning and then unzipping them. Then he slipped them down her legs and held her hand to steady her as she stepped out of them. She kept her heels on, now standing before you in just her button down blouse and undershirt.
Your brain was short circuiting.
“Please, Em… I need to touch you.” You murmured softly and she smirked at you, scarlet lips tipping up to one side.
“Not yet…” She taunted.
Hotch reached around her again and started to unbutton her blouse, his pace was agonizing. You noticed that he was careful not to touch her body at all, now that she was only half clothed, and his eyes were locked on you… not her.
They really were doing this just for you.
How they knew you’d find it hot to watch him undress her, you didn’t know, but it was working. They didn’t seem uncomfortable, no… they were enjoying themselves as they teased you mercilessly.
When he slid the blouse down her shoulders and it fell to the floor, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe. She was wearing that one red tank top that always made you drool.
“Emily…” you nearly whimpered. “Please…”
She looked smug as she shook her head, reveling in the shakiness of your voice. She knew what that tank top did to you…
“Do you want to see him take it off me?” She asked, sweet as sugar… in a saccharine kind of way.
“I’d rather do it myself…” you implored, giving her a pouty look.
Her breath hitched and you knew… you were going to win this one.
“But if I’m being totally honest… I have this… fantasy… of you, in this exact outfit. I want you just like this, you’ve always looked so sexy in red, Em.” You purred, and you can tell you’ve surprised her for once. She was speechless for a moment and Hotch smirked at you, his eyes showing his amusement at this little standoff between you and Emily. “You know you want me Emily… just give in.”
You licked your bottom lip subtly, then bit it, trying to tempt her by looking up at her as innocent as a lamb. She had spotted your ploy a mile away, seen it coming from the moment you said she looked sexy in red.
It still worked.
“I will.” She drawled sensually, her eyes tracing your body. “If you get on your hands and knees and crawl to me.”
She stepped away from Hotch and sat on the couch with her legs spread wide, revealing red lace panties that matched her red tank top.
“Fuck…” you breathed. “You win… you win Em… just… God, let me touch you… please.” You pleaded. “I fucking need you.”
“Crawl to me, Gorgeous.” She finally conceded, smiling at you triumphantly.
And you let her think she had the upper hand, as you slipped out of Spencer’s lap and to the floor, but you knew once you got your hands on her—your mouth on her—she’d be putty in them.
Hotch moved to Spencer’s side and leaned against the wall—to watch the show of course—and nodded at you encouragingly.
You took your time, crawling seductively across the cabin to her, using every inch of the space to taunt her. She devoured you with her eyes and when you got to her feet, picked her right one up and propped it on your shoulder. You planted soft kisses on the inside of her ankle, never breaking eye contact.
“I have dreams that start out just like this…” you murmured to her.
“So do I.” She admitted, her voice breathless and shaky.
“Mmm…” you hummed softly, then purred, “Then what happens?”
She laughed softly, trying to seem unaffected again, but it was much too late for that. You knew exactly what you were doing to her.
“What’s the matter, Em?” You teased, beginning to kiss your way up the inside of her leg. “Cat got your tongue?” She seemed to lose all semblance of composure and you giggled softly against her soft skin. “Don’t worry… I can figure it out. I’m very creative.”
The roles had been reversed, and you’d never felt more in control than in that moment, kneeling between her legs. You slid your hands up her thighs and around her hips, gripping her ass firmly and then pulled her to the edge of the couch in one smooth motion.
For better access of course.
She yelped in surprise and you chuckled against her skin, never checking up as you continued kissing your way up her leg. You’d made it to her inner thigh and she was trembling. You looked up at her from under your lashes and smirked.
“I like it when you’re vocal.” You teased her, repeating her words back to her and earning a soft laugh from Hotch in return.
Emily started to say something but you flatten your tongue against her pussy—through her panties—and she moaned instead.
You hummed at the sound, reveling in it and lapped at her clit enthusiastically. Not bothering to tease her at all, just diving right in—to shut her up and wipe the smug smile off her gorgeous lips—and showing her exactly how creative you could be with your tongue.
But that didn’t satisfy your hunger for her at all, no… you needed to taste her, without the lace that was currently barring you from doing it.
You gently moved her panties to the side and took in the sight of her, bare and wet—absolutely soaked—all for you.
“Oh Emily…” You purred. “You’re dripping for me… and such a pretty pussy too. I wonder if it tastes as delicious as it looks?”
You were dying for her to regain a little sentience.
Docile, desperately horny Em was cute… but you wanted her sassy, confident self to come back out to play. You puffed a hot, teasing breath over the supple skin of her pussy and slowly, so slowly, licked her from her slit all the way to her clit. You stopped just short of it though, teasing her entrance with your tongue instead.
“Stop teasing me before I change my mind.” She growled impatiently, her hand tangling in your hair and tipping your head back to make eye contact.
You smirked up at her, a bit defiantly, and said softly, “Ask me nicely…”
Her eyes narrowed slightly and her head tilted to the side just a fraction as she stared you down, she seemed to be contemplating her options here. She could either let you get away with that and actually say please, or she could do whatever just crossed her mind and made those beautiful onyx eyes flicker with heat.
“Please, stop teasing me.” She murmured softly, leaning down so that her lips brushed your cheek as she moved to whisper in your ear. “Or I will take care of this pretty pussy all by myself, and make you watch from Spencer’s lap.”
You chuckled, biting your bottom lip as you turned your head to look at her.
“Mmm, I love it when you’re bossy.” You murmured, your nose less than an inch from hers now.
“Do you?” She purred, leaning closer so her lips are hovering just over yours, sharing your every breath. You nodded, yes, and she grinned salaciously at you, moving closer so she could bite your bottom lip herself. “Then stop talking, and do something useful with that silver tongue instead.”
You felt your cheeks heat, whether it was embarrassment or arousal—or a mix of both—you weren’t certain. But you loved the way it felt.
“Yes ma’am.” You purred, your voice dripping with pure seduction.
You felt her hand vacate your hair and didn’t waste time. Leaning forward, you licked her cunt from bottom to top in one smooth motion. Your tongue—finally—delving in to taste her, before you buried yourself between her thighs and ate her pussy like you were starving. She was delectable. Her arousal like honey on your tongue, and she just kept getting wetter.
The more you explored and experimented with her, the more you learned.
For instance, if you suctioned your lips tightly around her clit and rolled your tongue in circles around it, she couldn’t help but squirm as she let out soft little moans. If you added two fingers, curling just slightly upwards, and used them to massage that spot—just past the ridge of her pubic bone—she bucked against you wildly. So you gripped her by her thighs and hoisted them up onto your shoulders, forcing her to lean back on the couch and spread herself wider for you. The new angle gave you more leverage with your fingers and allowed you to apply firmer pressure with your tongue.
She was putty in your hands, just as you knew she would be. Her ragged breaths and quiet whimpers were growing more and more desperate, her hands grappling for purchase on any part of you she could reach. You were unsurprised when they found your hair, threading into it and taking two fistfuls that had your scalp stinging delightfully. You moaned against her and then felt her walls start to flutter around your fingers.
“Don’t stop, don’t change anything, I’m so close!” She panted, her voice raw with desire.
You suppressed the urge to grin, needing to maintain the seal of your lips around her clit, the pressure of your tongue… but you couldn’t help feeling a little smug. Especially as she clamped down hard on your fingers, her thighs quivering and trying to close around your head. Her entire body went taunt, her back arching and her head falling back against the couch as she cried out, “Oh God!”
Only when her body fully relaxed and her grip loosened in your hair, did you allow yourself to smirk against her pussy and look up at her from under your lashes. She didn’t notice—too busy recovering from the mind blowing head you’d just given her—Hotch, however, did.
“Look at you, being all smug.” His voice ran up your spine like molten lava. You didn’t dare peek over at him, choosing instead to pepper Emily’s fevered skin with soft, barely there kisses. First over her inner thighs, then her lower stomach where her tank had ridden up nearly to her breasts. “Are you proud of yourself, Pretty Girl?”
Hotch’s hand perched softly at the nape of your neck, he squeezed gently but firmly. His hand slid down your back slowly, his finger slipping into your garter belt—the only item of clothing left on you—and snapping the elastic against your spine. You moaned softly at the sting and he chuckled softly. He began to guide the belt down your hips, over your ass and thighs, to your knees. Tapping each in silent command. You complied, lifting them one at a time so he could—finally—strip you completely bare. “Such a good girl…”
His murmured praise had you aching again as you continued your worshipful path of kisses up the plain of Emily’s belly. Not stopping when you reached her tank, instead starting to lift it over her head with her willing assistance. You tossed it to the floor and pushed her gently to her back, so that she was lying along the length of the couch. Climbing to settle between her legs again, you began to kiss her chest. Propping yourself up with one hand, you used the other to free her breasts from the cups of her bra, which—conveniently— clipped in the front. She moaned softly as your lips closed around one nipple and your free hand toyed with the other.
Warm breath on your pussy made it clench around nothing. Which made you keenly aware of the fact that you’d left your ass high in the air—and completely exposed. Strong hands gripped it firmly and tilted it up even further, positioning you exactly how their owner desired. “Stay just like this Sweetheart. I want to taste you while you take care of Emily.”
You moaned wantonly at Hotch’s order, spreading your legs a bit more for him. He smacked your ass, just hard enough to make a point. “I said stay still.”
“Yes sir.” You murmured seductively around Emily’s breast and he soothed the sting with a gentle kiss to the spot, just before he buried his face in your pussy. Groaning as he tasted you first hand, he gripped your ass with bruising strength and made you whine. “Fuck…”
He chuckled quietly to himself, his hand traveling down your ass and in between your legs. It wasted no time in finding its target. Your clit. He circled it so lightly, as though he thought it was delicate enough that any firmer touch would damage it.
The effect was maddening.
Emily’s hands found your breasts, toying with your nipples and bringing your attention partially back to her. You trailed your free hand down her stomach, finding her clit again with ease and began to move your finger over it ever so lightly. She whined quietly, and pressed up into your hand with her hips in a wordless request for more pressure.
“You need more, Em?” You asked softly, teasingly, as you kissed your way across her chest, up her neck, nipping her ear and finally hovered over her lips. “Hmm? Do you wanna taste yourself on my lips?”
“Shut up and kiss me.” She demanded, her hand wrapping around the back of your neck and tangling into your hair as she tugged you down to her lips.
The kiss was rough, frantic and heated. Emily was still grinding up into your hand—desperate for friction—so you had mercy and increased the pressure and speed of your hand.
Hotch’s tongue was still leisurely fucking into your pussy as his finger work your clit with precision. He kept making these self satisfied little groans in the back of his throat that were driving you crazy.
And then two more hands were touching you… Hotch’s hands were still on your ass and clit, Emily’s in your hair and toying with your breast…
But Spencer…
He’d been content to watch for a few minutes, but he couldn’t help himself any longer, he had to touch you.
He was tracing the lines of your ribs with one hand and your spine with the other, his touch light and inquisitive. You’d fantasized about him doing exactly this and you’d been right, it felt amazing. His hands on your skin anywhere would have been heavenly, but the way he was following each rib intentionally—reverently—reminded you of the way he traced each line when he was reading a book, the way his fingers skimmed over each vertebrae was making your back arch.
You pulled away from Emily to look up at him.
There was such adoration in his eyes as he studied the expanse of your skin. The hand at your ribs, going up to your shoulder blades and your collar bones. The one at your spine trailing down to the curve of your hip, over the rise of your ass and down the back of your thigh.
“Focus on Emily, Angel…” He murmured softly. “I just wanna touch you.”
You would do anything to have him keep touching you like that, so you redoubled your efforts on Emily. Sliding your fingers down from her clit to her cunt and slipping the middle two inside of her.
She moaned and you silenced it with a kiss, parting her lips with your tongue.
You rubbed her clit with your thumb while you worked her g-spot with the pads of your fingers and she started to squirm. She tried to close her legs but your knees were in the way and her thighs started to tremble.
“Give it to me, Emily…” You coaxed into her mouth, then bit her lip gently. “Let me have it, you can do it… come for me one more time…”
Her head fell back against the couch, so you dipped yours down and drew her nipple into your mouth, rolling it with your tongue. It was just enough to send her spiraling for the second time. A breathy cry falling from her lips as her pussy spasmed around your fingers.
All the stimulation—Hotch’s tongue and fingers, Emily’s cunt clenching around your fingers and her hands pulling your hair and squeezing your breast, and Spencer’s exploration of everywhere else—was nearly too much.
And then Hotch slipped two fingers inside of you… much thicker than Emily’s slender ones, and when he added a third… It was thicker that Spencer’s cock had been. Not as long, but with what he was doing… length didn’t matter.
You came hard. Your pussy clamping down on Hotch’s fingers so tightly you thought you could feel each knuckle and every callus. Your brain went completely offline and your thighs shook violently as your release ran down them.
Your knees gave out, and you collapsed against Emily with a moan. Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes. You laid there unable to move for several moments. Emily wasn’t moving either–except for her chest, which was heaving as she panted for air—so you were in no hurry to go anywhere. You gently slipped your fingers out of her and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.
“Holy–” She gasped.
“--fuck!” You finished for her on a hard fought breath.
Spencer snickered softly as he stepped back to observe the mess of limbs the two of you were tangled up in.
Hotch chose that moment to pull his fingers out of you—making you flinch and whine—and then he moved to lean against the table adjacent to the couch to watch you and Emily untangle yourselves.
“You good, gorgeous?” Emily murmured after a moment, her hand running through your hair affectionately.
You nuzzled into her neck, nipping at her throat playfully.
“I’m great, Em.” You purred, twirling her hair around your finger and then giggled, “Why? You wanna go again?”
“Do you?” Hotch’s voice pulled your attention from the way the overhead light caught in Emily’s hair.
You looked up at him, and found him staring down at you with heated eyes…
And a bulge in his pants.
You swallowed thickly, the amount of times you’d thought about fucking Aaron Hotchner…
Your mouth was suddenly dry and your tongue felt heavy and you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything if you tried.
So you nodded your head, yes.
“Come here.” He murmured, his voice low and rough.
You gently untangled yourself from Emily—dropping one more kiss to her lips as you went—and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch you go.
The three steps it took for you to reach him were the longest three steps of your life. When you came to stop in front of him he wasted no time.
He held the back of your neck and drew you in, gently but firmly, then kissed you.
You could feel the tension in the plain of his chest, the barely restrained strength of his grip, and the quiet urgency with which he kissed your lips.
He was desperate… but he didn’t want to be rough with you…
Which would have been sweet…
If that wasn’t exactly what you wanted.
You bit his lip, tugging it between your teeth and then licking into his mouth like you needed to taste him as much as you needed oxygen. Then you slipped your hand down and gave his cock a firm squeeze through his slacks.
He groaned and pulled you back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.
“Fuck me, like you own me.” You murmured, with much more confidence than you felt.
You saw in his eyes the exact moment his restraint snapped. It was like his whole demeanor did an about face.
The soft spoken, gentle—though slightly condescending and bossy—man that had been treating you with such tenderness and care…
He was gone.
You barely registered the movement, one moment you were standing up, asking him to fuck you…
And the next…
You were bent over the table he’d just been leaning on.
The sound of his zipper coming down made you clench around emptiness and then his hand was firmly planted in the center of your back. Holding you down on the table with an easy strength.
You felt the hard warmth of his cock at your entrance as he lined himself up, but he paused.
“You asked me to fuck you like I own you… are you sure you want that?” He asked again for consent. “I won’t be gentle.”
“I don’t want you to be gentle.” You said clearly, with a surety in your tone that he could not mistake for anything but affirmation. “I just want you to fuck me.”
He didn’t answer you verbally.
Just slid his cock inside you, all the way to the base.
You cried out—hands clutching the edges of the table—-at the shock of it. You’d thought—surely—after coming three times, that you would be good and ready for him.
But he was… thick.
You couldn’t breathe, your lungs had ceased to function the moment he slid home.
Thicker than Spencer had been by a bit—though not as long—and you’d known that since you’d had both of them in your mouth. The way he was stretching you out though, it burned, it was a good burn… but you needed a moment to adjust.
He seemed to know that instinctually, and while he said he wouldn’t be gentle, he wasn’t going to hurt you purposefully either.
So as he bottomed out inside you he gave you a moment to sit with it.
“Breathe.” His voice was commanding, but strained.
You took a deep breath and he felt his hand on your back rise as your chest filled with air.
The burning eased, and you relaxed against the table.
“Good girl…” He murmured and then he started to move.
The stretch was amazing, the way he filled you up had your back arching and your hands white knuckling the table. Then he started to pick up the pace, his thrusts long and deep. Pulling almost completely out of you and then going so deep you saw spots.
You pushed back into him, trying to take him deeper—if that was even possible—urging him to go faster, harder. You wanted to feel him in your diaphragm—you knew that wasn’t possible, but you didn’t particularly care—wanted him slamming into you. Over and over and over…
He grabbed your wrists, pulling them behind your back and holding them in one hand while the other went back to your waist, with a bruising grip. Taking away every bit of leverage you had and giving himself total control of your body.
Then he pounded into you, hard and fast until your hips were bashing up against the table.
You didn’t even notice, because his cock was hitting you so perfectly with every sharp thrust.
“Hotch!” You keened his name, the loudest sound you’d made all night.
“Mmm keep talking to me, pretty girl, I love the way your voice sounds screaming my name.” His own voice sounded different from anything you’d ever heard from him. It was carnal and lust filled, and it had you clenching around him. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that this isn’t gonna last very long, sweetheart.”
You could only moan in response.
There were hands in your hair, gathering it out of your face.
You hadn’t realized you’d closed your eyes, but when you opened them, Emily and Spencer were sitting side by side at the table you were bent over.
“She’s too quiet…” Emily purred, a truly wicked gleam in her eyes. “I don’t think you’re fucking her hard enough.”
Hotch chuckled, the sound ran up your spine and down your limbs until your whole body tingled.
“You think she can take it?” He asked her in return.
But it was Spencer who leaned down, his lips skimming your cheek as he murmured, “You can take it, can’t you Angel?”
“God yes!” You panted, trying to look back at Hotch, though it was nearly impossible to move at all with the way he was pinning you to the table. “I can take it!”
He pushed you back down flat on the table.
“You want it harder, Pretty Girl?” He asked and there was something in his tone… something lethal.
“Yes! Please!” You sobbed.
“Tell me how bad you want it, make it pretty for me sweetheart… I wanna hear you beg.” His grip on your waist got impossibly tighter.
“I don’t want it, I need it! It feels so good, Hotch, please! I’ll be so good! I’ll lie here and take it like a good girl! Just fuck me harder, please!” You pleaded, your voice cracking as he continued to fuck into you. “I need to feel you deeper!”
He groaned, letting go of your arms and taking ahold of your hair instead.
“God, I love to hear you beg…” He growled, pulling your head back so he could lean forward and whisper in your ear. “Hold on to the table, pretty girl. You’re gonna need it.”
You gripped the sides of the table as hard as you could, bracing yourself against it.
He railed into you so hard you couldn’t remember your own name, your hips slamming into the table. His balls were slapping your clit loud enough to be heard over the sound of your cries, which were spilling from your lips with every thrust.
They were unintelligible.
Not even you knew what you were saying, but it was clear what you meant.
Don’t. Fucking. Stop.
“Fuck, she looks so beautiful like this…” Emily groaned to Spencer. “Look at her.”
“I see her… she’s fucking perfect.” Spencer replied. “Watch, she’s getting close… she makes that face every time, right before she comes.”
You were, you were so wrapped up in the moment you hadn’t even felt it creeping up on you until he brought it to your attention.
“I can feel her pussy fluttering… fuck, she’s getting tighter.” Hotch sounded nearly pained. “Come on, sweetheart, let me have it. I wanna feel you come on my cock.”
Emily reached under the table and pressed on your clit.
Your vision went white, a dull roar—like the ocean—filled your ears, your knees buckled and only the table and Hotch’s grip kept you from hitting the floor.
Your throat burned, and you knew you must’ve screamed, but you couldn’t hear a thing.
Both his hands were on your hips now, squeezing like his life depended on, anchoring you firmly to himself.
And it was a good thing too, because you thought that otherwise you might’ve floated away.
Your body was numb, gravity meant nothing to you, neither did time, or space.
Just his hands on your hips and his cock still slamming into your pussy as he fucked you through it.
Your hearing was the first sense to return to you, and you thanked the universe and every deity you knew of—just to cover all your bases—that it did.
Because the sound of Aaron Hotchner coming was something you wanted branded into your memory.
“Fuck! Such a good girl, just like that baby!” He moaned, “You feel like heaven pretty girl! I’m- God- I’m about to come—“
He pulled out of you so abruptly that you whined at the loss.
But then there were warm, wet ropes landing on your back.
You moaned, you wished you could see it, though feeling it was something you’d never forget.
“Fuck.” Hotch panted, then patted your ass gently. “You did so good for me sweetheart. That was…”
You couldn’t seem to speak yet, and your vision was still fuzzy. Your limbs weren’t yet back under your control either. So you just laid there, panting.
“Angel, are you okay?” You heard Spencer’s sweet voice murmur, you could feel his lips near your ear.
And Emily’s hand in your hair, nails brushing against your scalp soothingly.
Hotch was stroking your thigh tenderly.
Then the strangest thing happened… you started to giggle… you couldn’t help it… nothing was funny.
You were just… happy?
Overwhelmed?
Incandescent?
“Is she laughing?” Hotch asked, confusion evident in his tone.
“It would seem so…” Spencer murmured. “I think—you might have broken her.”
“No…” Emily murmured, stroking your cheek, wiping away an errant tear. “She just needs a minute, she’s euphoric.”
There! That was the word you’d been looking for! Thank you Emily, you beautiful, sexy, sapphic goddess!
“I’m gonna get something to clean her up,” you heard Hotch murmur, “I’ll be right back.”
His footsteps retreated toward the bathroom.
You felt so heavy…
You just wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep.
A warm cloth touched your back, stroking up and down, cleaning up after Hotch’s release.
Voices were murmuring quietly around you, and then you felt someone—probably Hotch—lift you from the table.
You barely got your eyes open, just enough to look around.
Spencer was gathering all your clothes, you were resting on Hotch’s lap, Emily was digging in your go-bag—she pulled from it a pair of sweats and a t-shirt—then she brought them over and started dressing you.
You didn’t know at what point she had put her clothes back on… just that she was dressed.
Spencer put your discarded clothes into your go-bag and then he came back over to sit next to Hotch on the couch. He helped Emily get your arms—which were too heavy to move still—into the sleeves of your shirt.
When they had finished dressing you, Emily sat on Hotch’s other side. He gently lowered your head to her lap, and Spencer pulled your legs up into his.
“Are you sure she’s alright?” Spencer asked quietly.
“Mm hmm…” Emily hummed, stroking your hair tenderly. “She’s just exhausted… four times… is a lot.”
Hotch took your hand in his and kissed the back of it.
That was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep.
*Four Days Later*
You’d thought that it would be awkward…
Coming back to work after fucking three of your coworkers—one of whom is your boss—at the same time.
But it wasn’t.
It was exciting.
The four of you were all smiles when you looked at each other, secret smiles that no one else was aware of, and knowing glances had been passed back and forth all morning.
Hotch had accidentally brushed across your hips with the back of his hand when he’d passed you in the bullpen.
There was a bruise there from the table where he’d fucked you, and he knew it. He was reminding you on purpose.
Spencer had been glancing at your lips all morning, a soft pink flush coloring his cheeks each time. Likely remember how he’d come down your throat.
Now, at the round table, Emily squeezed your thigh once under the table. There was a bite mark there that hadn’t yet faded. One that she’d given you.
All their attention was making you feel a bit overheated, so you pulled your French pin from the pocket of your slacks and pinned your hair into a twist.
You noticed, after you’d done so, that Hotch was giving you a very smug look. You felt like there was something else behind it, other than the obvious, but you couldn’t figure out what.
Everyone was distracted, just waiting on the last of the team—Derek and Garcia—to straggle into the room. They’d made it to the door, but Derek was on crutches so they were taking their time and everyone was fine with that.
But then Derek stopped—right behind you—and laughed.
“You uh— you got a little somethin’ somethin’ on the back of your neck, there Lil’ Mama…” He teased.
You reached up to touch your neck, confused, you looked up at him.
“What?” You asked.
“Looks like somebody had a little fun this weekend.” He joked. “That’s a pretty interesting place for a hickey…”
You paled, then blushed, immediately pulling the pin out of your hair and letting it fall down your back to cover the mark.
“Morgan.” Hotch said quietly—to hide the amusement in his tone—his eyes flicking to you briefly over the top of the file he’d been pretending to read. “Leave her alone.”
Derek threw his hands up in surrender and kept making his way to his seat.
One half of the room moved on, assuming that Hotch had just scolded Morgan out of a need for professionalism, and was choosing to cut you some slack over a mark you clearly hadn’t known existed.
But the other half knew better.
Rossi—who had returned from his book tour just the night before—stood to pull out Derek’s chair for him and took one elbow, while Penelope took the other.
While they helped him get settled, you threw Hotch a scathing look.
Because the only one who had left marks on your neck, had been him.
He was already smirking back at you, smug as shit.
Emily and Spencer were biting their lips to keep from laughing and they didn’t dare make eye contact with each other, or they were going to lose it.
You just stared a hole through the smirking Unit Chief, silently berating him for leaving a mark where you couldn’t see it.
And the bastard winked at you.
Then he cleared his throat and you let your expression go blank as the others all came to attention.
cw: shy!reader / naive!reader, hotch has a crush!! a bit of mutual pining
a/n: i feel like this is a little all over the place but i love a pining hotch too much so i just had to post it!!!
Anderson has been doing his case reports in the pantry for the past four hours. Perhaps it does have its perks– one, he’s closer to the coffee machine and two, he’s farther away from all the chatter that is coming from the place he should actually be working in– at his desk.
That’s because for the past four hours, the whole BAU team or what’s left of it– being Derek, Rossi, Garcia, and Reid– have been crowding the rows of desks directly across Hotch’s office. Occupying desks and chairs that are definitely not theirs.
The rowdy bunch has been debating, gossiping, and most importantly, profiling their unit chief for the past four hours. Figuring out which applicants impress him, disappoint him, or straight-up irritate him– all through his office window.
They’ve seen a total of seven applicants walk out of his office without a handshake, which is Hotch’s tell on whether he would consider that candidate or not. Out of those seven, two were way prettier than they were smart, three way too confident than they were competent, and two solely able to step foot in Quantico because of their last names.
As for those that did walk out with a handshake were… well.. non-existent. If anyone were to ask someone from the team, they’d insist that they don’t need a new member. They don’t need anyone new to replace the beloved ones that have left.
However, remembering the previous cases from the past two weeks– the truth is, they all felt a little like they were drowning. It felt like the more days that went by, the more cases there were to filter, solve, and close. The more killers there were to profile, hunt, and stop. The more reports there were to fill out, file, and submit;
Each member of the team was doing double the workload of what they usually handle which had started to take its toll on their health, both physical and mental. And Hotch being the responsible leader that he is, recognized what had to be done. Especially after Reid fainted while running and Morgan’s strength notably faltering while in a tussle with an unsub.
Now, the team didn’t know if it was perhaps because Hotch was measuring all these potential agents against Emily and JJ but none of them appeared up to his standard. Although accepting applications was his idea, judging by the way his brows had furrowed permanently they could tell Hotch was starting to regret it. Rossi, who knows Hotch a little better than everyone, could tell that he was about to give up.
He could tell by the way he had his lips pressed in a thin line for the past forty minutes unwaveringly.
He could tell by the way his shoulders were more obviously rising and falling, his breaths deeper- like he was calming himself.
He could tell by the way Hotch would stand with clenched fists, unclenching them slowly on his sides.
He could tell by the way Hotch was staring at the files, not reading.
But just as Rossi was about to go up to Hotch’s office so they could all call it a night. To give his friend a pep talk about being there for each other and how tomorrow’s another day. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone entering the BAU walking briskly.
The profiler in him skims over the figure quickly: 5 foot 3. Tiny. Mid-20s to early 30s. Young. Cardigan, jeans, sneakers, and a messenger bag. Is this kid Reid’s twin or what. Soulful round eyes, cute nose, pink lips. Pretty.
“Uhm, hi.. I’m here for an interview? with uhm.. Mr– Agent Hotchner, sorry. Could someone point me to his office? Please?” Interesting.
For some reason, none of the members of the team spoke, mainly surprised by the sudden addition of this stranger’s presence. One by one, like falling dominos, they slowly pointed to Hotch’s door. Simultaneously taking their precious time assessing whatever they can from what they’re seeing.
Their observations didn’t stray far from what Rossi had seen. You’re pretty. That’s the first thing one can deduce. The incredibly-adorable kind of pretty, Garcia thinks. You seem smart, the same way anyone knows boy genius is smart– darting eyes like you’re thinking at a thousand miles per minute. Like you’re studying your surroundings, assessing threats, friendlies, and potential threats.
You’re shy. You speak softly as if scared to intrude. Your movements are precise as if scared to impose. You stand still as if scared to take up more space than necessary. But your posture says otherwise. You may be introverted but your intelligence reeks in your diction and the way your head is held high, a part of you you’re sure of. Literally a lot like Reid, it’s creepy.
You’re young. Young enough to steal pretty boy’s title as the baby of the team if you were to be accepted. To be honest, you look like a college student. Like a straight A, extra credit, shy and quiet type of student– and they weren’t wrong.
You didn’t find anything weird about their behavior, the silence with which they responded to you. Probably because you were too nervous about your interview. Everyone knows the BAU is the team that’s the most difficult to get into, and that their unit chief’s the most intimidating man in the FBI that the Director himself avoids running into him altogether.
So it was definitely a surprise when you were called in by Erin Strauss. A fresh graduate from the academy, you had no field experience at all. You’d only been working as a forensic scientist for the Organized Crime Division for a little less than a year, and more often than not you were in laboratories and morgues. Mainly there as a junior consultant than anything, having the more seasoned agents out in the field, on active crime scenes.
Your gaze followed where they were pointing to, nerves permeating through your body. As you make your way up the stairs to get to his door, you’re trying to even your breathing- desperately. You don’t want to seem incompetent and inexperienced, pathetic even.
Raising your hand to knock, you take in one last deep breath. Suddenly aware of all the people watching you from behind, possibly profiling you– you knock. Loudly. Like you were trying to prove something, show false strength and confidence.
Maybe a little too loud, you realized. Shit.
You’re in your own head when the door whips open and you see him. You knew he was good looking. You’ve seen him on TV and in pictures but god they did not do him justice. Just as you were processing how good-looking he was and how it would be a crime to embarrass yourself in front of him, your body decides it’s time to let out that big breath you inhaled before knocking.
Now it appears you’re just blowing cool air into his chest, frozen while he stands there towering over you, most likely curious about why you knocked on his door so hard, why you are blowing cool air into his chest and more importantly, who the heck were you?
“Hi, I’m, uh, here for the interview. For, uhm, the vacant position at the BAU team, Sir– Agent!” clearing your throat you scramble to make a good impression, or at least salvage what’s been established.
Swallowing your pride, you bow your head in embarrassment, softening your voice as you say “Sorry, Agent Hotchner. What I meant to say is that I’m applying to be on your team. I’m here for the interview.” Looking up at him eye-to-eye, to hopefully convey your sincerity, you held his stare and his breathing stuttered.
Let’s be honest. Hotch just went through four hours of his personal hell, getting to know people he doesn’t want to get to know. Asking questions, engaging in small talk, studying mannerisms and language– all to assess whether that person could be the much needed addition to his team. And the last thing he wants right now, as it nears the end of the work day, is another applicant to entertain.
So Hotch, along with the rest of the team, becomes quite surprised when he moves his body out of the way to let you in his office when seconds ago he looked like he was about to give a very tempered advice at whoever just banged on his door.
While he gestures for you to sit walking around his desk to sit on his own chair, he convinces himself that it’s because he is a good person and because he would do anything to help his team even if it meant enduring another painful interview.
Definitely not because of your eyes. Or pouting lips. Or the adorable way blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. Or your soft, soft voice that said his name in such a way that he’s dying to hear it again.
Nope. It is simply his duty to lead and care for his team, and that means interviewing you. Somehow.
-
It was quiet. You were nervous. It was obvious. He was waiting for you to talk but you’ve been staring at his tie instead of his face. You’re fiddling with your rings, wiping your palms on your jeans. And you were still very obviously trying to even your breaths.
Observing these were enough to make him soften his voice slightly as he spoke, “Could you tell me about yourself?” He said slowly and softly– soft enough that if the air conditioning was a little louder you probably wouldn’t have heard him at all.
Hotch became extremely conscious about coming across as demanding. He simply didn’t want to intimidate you further. He knew that if he wanted you to talk, open up, and present yourself justifiably, he would have to tread lightly.
Now, he didn’t know when exactly he had started to care about whether he came off as intimidating or not, nor does he know why he’s the one adjusting for someone applying to be on his team– but apparently the times have changed.
He’s brought out of his thoughts by your faint reply, “Well I, uh, have a bachelor in Psychology and in World Literature. Uhm, and.. I also have a Masters in Criminal Psychology but pursued Forensic Psychology for my doctorate.” You sounded almost hesitant to list all your achievements, which made him think you’ve probably been told once or twice that it is impolite to talk about such achievements to one’s face.
The thought of someone invalidating your achievements, your brilliance infuriates him. You’ve achieved so much so early in your life, you deserve to be celebrated. There’s a subdued smile on his face, hopefully one you interpret as encouragement to continue.
With a small smile gracing your face at his kind reaction, you added, “I only recently finished actually– I did it simultaneously with the academy’s progr–”
He cut you off, “Congratulations– sorry.” Too eager. Since when am I the one doing the impressing? “You like studying,” he observed. The smile on your face, although small, seemed genuine. Your face and your posture increasingly relaxed the more you talked.
You breathe out a laugh, “A little.. A little too much maybe.” Looking at your hands, rearranging the rings that adorn your nimble fingers.
Hotch’s face has softened. He didn’t notice by how much, but it has relaxed a lot more the longer he observes you, everything about you. He commits your every movement to his memory, every mannerism, chalking it up to some part of his assessment. Words that describe you flashing in his head: introverted, intelligent, beautiful, accomplished– He hasn’t read your file. He gave up on reading files three candidates ago and has been relying on his profiling skills to get him through.
But there’s something about you. Something that he can’t figure out, can’t name or explain. He felt it the very first time your eyes met, which isn’t even an hour ago but feels damn near to ages ago. He’s feeling it deep in his bones– a tingling feeling, an electric current, a rush of excitement. His heart has been beating slower yet louder. He feels it strongly in his chest.
It had made him silent for a minute, so you look up from your hands subtly to check if he’s alright. For a second you were worried that he had said something that you just didn’t pick up on, and he’s been waiting for you to respond.
But as your eyes meet again, he feels he’s suddenly in unfamiliar territory, treading powerful waters, and he can do nothing but go along with it.
You’re surprised by the look in his eyes, but the sudden silence is at the forefront of your mind and you try to diffuse it, “Uhm–”
He cuts you off again, “Tell me something about yourself that I won’t read on your file.” He had the same idea- to talk. But for you, it was to diffuse the silence you thought was a dead giveaway of how disastrous your interview’s turning out to be. To him, it was to get somewhere, anywhere.
He’s got this weird feeling– a desire to get you talking more, even though soon enough there will be an awakened part of him that is certain there will be more talking in store for you two in the future.
“What?” You don’t know why you said that. You understood what he said. Now you probably helped him affirm in his head that you’re ditzy and possibly the least reliable candidate to make agent.
But..you just caught him looking at you like he was in love with you. Now you’re officially crazy. Dark, compelling eyes calling to you– it threw you off. It wasn’t even the usual sickening look of love, it was more of this serious, earnest yearning- almost pained.
-
Now while the two of you were battling awkwardness and inexplicable feelings, the team was watching the whole thing unfold through his office window like a silent film. In fact, Garcia and Derek were already sharing a bowl of popcorn he ran to microwave the second they all saw Hotch’s entire existence falter at your presence.
“What– what is happening? They’re barely talking!” Garcia worries. You’re tiny and adorable, and you look so kind and so incredibly soft and fragile. She just wants to protect you regardless of having met you less than briefly, minutes ago.
“Baby girl, look closely. Both are just nervous, blushing idiots. They’ve just gotta push through this. Aren’t I right?” Derek’s smart mouth smugly adds. Looking to Rossi for any confirmation that he had guessed right: Hotch has a crush.
Ever the skilled lip-reader, Reid comments “It’s been six whole minutes and Hotch has only asked her to tell him about herself.” He ponders for a moment, tilting his head “And judging by his relaxed jaw movements, gestures, and the decreased amount of strain his neck shows, I’d say he’s speaking softer than his usual volume.”
Essentially Hotch’s best friend, every member looks to Rossi for his reaction. If they need any sort of confirmation that they’re reading their boss man right, they only ever have to read his right hand man Rossi who wears how he feels and what he thinks like Garcia wears her individuality.
But Rossi’s only looking back at Reid with twinkling eyes and a smug smile growing bigger by the second. He lets out a quiet laugh, turning back to see Hotch smiling at the girl who is unaware of the fool grinning at her, “Addition to the team my ass– he'll be adding her to his life."